


What was right here all along

by StormXPadme



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Body Horror, Dildos, Discussion of Abortion, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Going to Hell, Knotting, M/M, Miscarriage, Mpreg, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-07-27 04:21:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 33,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7603201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormXPadme/pseuds/StormXPadme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It could be worse, Jim says after the crash. He fails to mention how. And that’s before they know, they’re hopelessly stranded. And before their bodies begin to change and it starts to get really fucking hot in that shuttle. Or the story of how the term Beta was defined, because let’s be real, no matter what the sex pollen dealt out to him, Bones is about as Omega as Khan’s and Janeway’s lovechild.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so RL hasn’t left me time to write ANY fanfics in the last 3 years, but after watching Star Trek: Beyond for the third time, I got sucked into that deep black void that is McKirk and this story needs to be written down. I’m going to hell for this and I regret nothing. More detailed smut to follow in the upcoming chapters.

_Can you imagine what we’ll_ find _?_

Two months in on their continued deep space mission, they find the jackpot. A permanent, physical altering hostile environment with sex pollen on top.

It’s really Jim’s fault that they got into this mess into the first place, Bones decides. He was the one insisting on Bones flying the damn shuttle to that stupid asteroid anomaly, even though he knows _exactly_ how much Bones hates piloting and that he hasn’t done it since his Academy flight exam.

Yorktown doesn’t count. That was the force of pure desperation. Okay, maybe the first time it was dumb luck and Spock groaning instructions from the back between pained breaths, the second time there were millions lives at stake – Sulu’s little girl’s among them – and that stunt in the end … Yeah, like the hell he’s gonna let the man whom he silently, wholly contently passive and aggressively fiercely loves since before they graduated, die on him. One time was enough, thank you very much.

Okay, so maybe he’s not a complete idiot in the air. But that was _one_ (many) times and (nearly) not a bit of fun. He still hates it with a passion and good reason. He’s a doctor, not a fucking pilot. How was _he_ supposed to know that blinking purple light means _KEEP AWAY IF YOU WANT TO LIVE_? Really, how about coloring shit like that red, like every other intergalactic sign for _Your ass is about to be handed to you_?

By the time Jim reacts and orders him to pull over with something unsettling close to panic in his voice, their thrusters are already vomiting acid space dust or something, and when Jim takes over the controls, all he can do is watch how they get sucked into a worm hole they didn’t know was there.

When they come out, they’re already crashing on an unknown planet.

Well, shit.

 

Jim says it could be worse. Admittedly only after Bones yanked a six inch long lever out of his abdomen, shoved his intestines back where they belong and stopped the bleeding, all with one hand, the other arm hanging from his shoulder in a weird angle, all the while praying his own shattered rips won’t splinter into either lungs or heart.

But with some distance and on a shitload of painkillers, it’s almost funny.

That’s until they discover all communications are jammed by some geological interference shit and that they won’t get this shuttle off the ground anymore in this life. And while the air is breathable and there seems to be enough water, food and a few hundred thousands of life forms on this world around, they can’t set foot outside. Well, they could, if they felt like serving as dinner for five foot high raptors. Who by the way damn near tear through the shuttle wall before Jim can get a functioning perimeter shield up, still moaning and writhing in pain, pupils wide from the highest amount of meds Bones could pump into him without stopping his heart from beating.

As soon as that is done, Bones discovers that most of the two dozen insects who made it in the wreck by then are venomous. He hardly has time to adjust the life support system to clean all shit out of the air _right now_ that doesn’t belong here before the pain starts, and then ram another hypo with every known antidote in the galaxy in both Jim’s and his own jugular, praying that at least something in that suicidal cocktail will work.

Jim, half conscious at this point, mutters something like, I thought you couldn’t give us any more, and from his own mouth comes some blurred noise that could mean, if the bites won’t kill us that stuff will for sure, so there’s that.

„You could at least try to be comforting for once, Bones.”

But Jim smiles at him, weakly. He paws for his arm blindly until he finds it and squeezes while they’re already passing out, veins standing out from necks and wrists sick and purple – fucking _purple_ again – breathing ragged and exhausted, blood burning.

It feels nice to have someone actually care if you wake up again.

 

Somehow, miraculously, they survive that too and when they wake up at least the shuttle still holds together. For the moment they’re good. With what’s left of the cargo after that crash, shuffled around a little, they have their own room each, a self-sustaining water and power line that will last them for at least for a few years if necessary, a working replicator and decent med supplies.

Still they’re fucked, because if they run out of even one of those things, they’re dead, and no one in Starfleet knows where they are.

It could be much worse, Jim insists.

When Bones asks, how exactly, he doesn’t answer but smiles. It looks forced.

And soon Bones wishes he hadn’t asked.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim Kirk is extremely horny. In other news, the sky is blue. He also hates to talk about feelings.

It starts subtle, after a few days, when they mostly recovered from both crash and poison.  
First, Bones hardly realizes – come on, it’s Jim Kirk, of course his natural needs will re-emerge as soon as he’s not pissing blood anymore. 12 hours a day straight, they work on repairs, both without real hope that they can find a way to at least send a distress signal. But it gives them something to do while they wait for the _Enterprise_ crew to figure out, somehow, where they went.  
When they fall into their beds then, Bones is little more than mildly amused to hear Jim relieve some pressure next door. The walls are _really_ thin, okay? It’s definitely not like he lies there in this unbearable, ever present humid heat that not even the shields can fully keep out, fantasizing to be the one who makes that desolate field bed squeak rhythmically. Jerking off his best friend, preferably while being balls deep buried in that perfect ass, oh, and Jim still wearing his uniform top of course, maybe one of the torn ones, because damn, that looks way hotter than it should … Fucking him to the rhythm of one of his stupid classical songs ...  
Nope, something like that definitely never occurred to Bones.  
And when it ever does, in hidden, private, weak moments filled with fear of the future and – as unbelievable as he finds it himself – homesickness for that still so new, so innocent spaceship … Well, damn fucking heat strokes, that’s all. And eh, what’s a man got a healthy right hand for anyway.  
It’s nothing he’d give second thought to, usually.

But it gets worse.  
A week in, Jim starts to steal away from lunch breaks, and then he starts taking more and more breaks from work, at least two times with a considerable bulge under that pair of short pants they found in the basic shuttle supplies.  
Soon it becomes clear that he isn’t just being a pain, like he sometimes does when he’s bored and just wants to get a reaction out of Bones. He starts to look mortified when it happens though neither of them mentions it. He keeps on sucking ice cubes until even the replicator probably starts wondering, and Bones never has to worry about warm water because Jim never showers in anything but freezing temperatures, apparently. And at night he keeps on tossing and turning. Moaning, too, but it doesn’t sound particularly entertained anymore.  
It’s distracting, to say the least, and a little bit worrisome, but since an increased sex drive is hardly classified a medical condition, Bones tries not to pry. Mister Sensitive and all. Instead he just shoots a needle in Jim’s arm during their next weekly check-up and draws three units of blood, not bothering to ask. He’s a doctor, he’s allowed to do shit like that, even if Jim politely disagrees with that sometimes (as polite as it is, telling Bones to „fuck off with that thing or I’ll throw you out of the next airlock”).  
Jim frowns but then turns his head with tightened lips and continues cutting his apple into neat little bites, like for a toddler. His lack of energy for pretty much everything is really starting to show, and seriously, Bones hardly even needs an excuse to worry by now.  
From the slightly outdated but well programmed lab computer the results comes back clean though. Nearly.

He isn’t surprised to not find Jim lying under the com terminal, fiddling with some cables, but on the floor, leaning against it, a wet cloth around his neck, wrists absently fondling an icepack. He doesn’t seem to notice the stray trickles of water slowly drenching his thin undershirt, the most they can both bear to wear in here without going crazy. Bones’ brain decides to notice though and give him a very distracting mental picture of licking those drops off Jim’s neck before biting down on it, long and hard, while he rips his pants open and strokes him until he comes all over himself, and then …  
Bones blinks a few times and gets an ice pack for himself from the freezer box wordlessly. Once  
_(if)_  
they finally get off this planet, he’ll never complain about the coldness in space again, ever. Sooner or later, that much heat always fries the brain.  
He drops next to Jim and shortly waves the datapad he brought before he crawls under that terminal to fiddle with the damn cables. Like that will make any difference. But it will spare Jim what his friend likes to call the _Triple S_ , the southern surgeon smolder.  
„Your hormones are going through the roof.”  
“You’re paranoid.”  
“Huh?”  
„I thought we were stating the obvious.” Jim gives a dry chuckle. Even his voice sounds exhausted. „Didn’t you stop being surprised by my addiction two weeks after you were assigned my roommate? Always assumed at some point you just surrendered to the fact of my obvious attraction to everything that breathes.”  
“You’re not addicted except to adrenaline. You’re just terrified of commitment.” Bones hears the pause in the unnerving drum of Jim’s heel to a silent rhythm and realizes, surprised, it’s the first time they actually talk about shit like that.  
Mister Sensitive, obviously.  
“That said, no, that’s not what I’m talking about. Your bloodwork looks like your pituitary just discovered Andorian porn. Your testosterone levels are going crazy even for your standards. I’m surprised you’re not humping the replicator right now.”  
_Or me_ , that annoying little voice in his head adds silently, and he mentally groans.  
“Probably just some stress reaction. We’ve been here long enough to start scratching at the walls. I can try get a hold of it with meds.” His voice trails off at the end.  
„Medical supplies are for emergencies.” Jim huffs and finally throws that icepack away to squeeze in under that terminal next to him. Which promptly has Bones’ hormonal household spike unhealthily. Great. „Not that you can make it any worse than it is, but let me do that. Maybe you can teach that fucking thing over there how to replicate proper ice cream instead. Helps cooling down. That would be more useful than analyzing my sexual desires.”  
It’s probably not meant half as rude as it sounds, so Bones bites his tongue before an equally hurtful remark can leave his lips. They’re both tired.  
And it’s true, Jim can’t cook for his life, so maybe Bones can make himself useful with that at least.  
Before they start punching the boredom and growing desperation out of each other.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, Bones never wanted to believe it, but apparently, too horny to function is actually a thing.

If it was ever even remotely funny, the shit hits the fan by the time the fever starts.

Bones didn’t see it coming and that’s what he hates most. First thing they teach you in med school about those famous strange new worlds? _Nothing_ is harmless, every smallest reaction in and to the environment has to be monitored. And Leonard McCoy, youngest CMO in the fleet, the magic hands of the _Enterprise_? Takes his eyes off his fucking patient. Ignores symptoms because they’re ridiculous. Looks away because of a stupid fight that even wasn’t one to begin with.

Unprofessional.

Stupid.

That’s why you don’t bring feelings to your fucking med bay.

Jim leaves for his room even more frequently that day, with his breaks consequently getting longer until it’s more like him dropping by the cockpit, pretending to work from time to time. He also spends half of the day in the shower. Finally Bones snaps and tells him to stay next door or outside, or in that small perimeter that their shield allows …

“… anywhere but _here_ , damnit, Jim can’t you see you’re useless right now? You want to pretend this shit isn’t happening, do it somewhere else at least.”

Like he doesn’t pretend the same.

But Jim doesn’t bite back, he just gets up and leaves God knows where, Bones can’t bother to check because actually he’s quite sure he can teach the replicator to provide medical supplies if he tries hard enough.

Those are tricky and there’s reasons, standard machines like this one technically aren’t allowed to be used for it. But when you live long enough by Jim Kirk’s side you learn that some rules are more… recommendations. If Bones can give his best friend some relief from this damn jungle fever, that takes priority.

So much priority he completely forgets about the actual patient. Again.

Only when his growling stomach reminds him that the last meal was yesterday evening, he realizes Jim hasn’t been eating all day either. Actually he hasn’t seen or heard anything from him since he sent him out like a naughty school boy.

He sighs, shakes his head at himself and quickly draws something from the replicator that is supposed to have to do something with chicken. It will probably taste like salted cotton, just like the rest of the artificially produced food. But Jim is as corn head as they come, he loves his chicken, and it’s the thought that counts.

There’s also some of that Brandy left that the previous pilot forgot in the storage, and a glass of that over a game of chess later? As far as it goes in terms of apologies between them.

Tomorrow, maybe they can look into the replicator together even. Bones might hate the thought but it’s pretty clear by now that they’ll be stuck here for a while longer – the evil word _forever_ he won’t allow into his conscious mind, it’s enough to have it haunt his dreams.

If they aren’t to go nuts, they need to focus on making things as comfortable as can be around here, Jim is right about that. And last time Bones checked, „sorry“ didn’t give you rabies.

 

A small smile on his lips, Bones enters Jim’s room since there’s no sound from there, so he assumes he won’t interrupt anything private. He nearly drops the plates.

Jim is a sweaty, writhing, naked mess and the only reason he’s probably not making any noise is the pillow between his teeth. The room reeks of sickness and a sweat drenched bed, and Bones knows how Jim’s deeply flushed skin will feel long before he all but leaps over there and turns his friend on his back. It’s like touching an oven.

„My god, man, will you fucking _say_ something? You _do_ remember there’s a doctor in the house, right?“

He’s pissed, seriously pissed, it’s not just that resignedly so-done-with-everything state of mind that you learn to love when being friends with Jim Kirk.

But after a quick look into Jim’s fever-swollen eyes, seeing that apologetic and deeply ashamed look at his friend’s face, Bones realizes he’s already failing him again as his doctor. That really needs to stop. Whatever fever Jim caught that attacks his hormones of all things first, it’s not his fault. It’s not something he does on purpose and there’s most definitely nothing hilarious about it.

On the contrary. The sight of aggressively red, chafed skin stretching over his genitals leaves Bones wondering how the guy is still able to run around with his clothes on.

That Jim also still sports an impressive boner in spite of everything, he honestly hardly notices.

He’s gotta do something about it though, obviously. With some effort he makes it to drag Jim to his feet and into the shower. Jim is shaking, he can hardly stand straight, so Bones has no choice but to stay in there with him, clothes on and all.

One thing at least he’s very positive about. He’s gonna fucking kill Spock for suggesting to take a look at this fucking dead rock.

 

When Bones brings Jim back to bed 20 minutes later – his own, Jim’s sheets need some serious changing – his friend is at least orientated enough again for a drowned kitten remark.

„Yeah, fuck you too.“

With his teeth chattering, Bones quickly gets out of his shirt and pants as soon as Jim is comfortable, and angles for a new set on his way to the storage.

„Back in a second. Try not to kill yourself again.“

He’s not the Captain, but he decides that it’s in his power to define, yeah this qualifies as a fucking emergency. Jim is still way too exhausted to protest anyway when Bones first gets a hypo, then a nutrition shot into him and then, ever so gently, treats his sore skin with a thin layer of healing salve. At least that aggressive, forced arousal like from some horribly wrong administered impotence treatment is gone, but Bones has a vague idea, that’s not gonna last.

Jim knows too, of course. Maybe that’s why he lies still and makes no sound – so unlike him, so unnerving, so _wrong_ – while Bones takes care of him. Bones could swear his cheeks are already flushing again before he’s even done.

„Thanks“, he murmurs when Bones finally pulls the light bed cover up to his chest. „You know, I remember at least fourteen women who would find this whole thing hilarious.“

„Yeah, you’re definitely delirious“, Bones answers dryly. „You pronounced two hundred and forty-four wrong.“

Jim doesn’t manage more than a weak grin.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Watching your patient for medical reasons technically isn't creepy, is it?

The night is so much hell, Bones can’t help but wish for the boredom from before.

Jim’s fever is spiking back up by the time Bones finally gets some food into him, and the next shower isn’t helping half as much. None of the meds Bones tries on him have any effect, except for making him puke all that reluctantly choked down food right back up – at least that poor excuse of a chicken is not much of a loss.

It shouldn’t be surprising the medicine is doing no good, considering technically Jim isn’t being sick. No matter what kind of tests Bones puts him through, between half-dragging, half-carrying him to the shower and back, kneeling there in the cabin with his trembling, overheated body in his arms for long minutes every time, until Jim isn’t at least hallucinating anymore … No matter how many needles he sticks into him and how much he adjusts his scanners to every single fucking alien sickness he’s ever heard of … It all comes back negative.

Except for the heat rising, there’s nothing _wrong_ with his captain.

Except he’ll die if he keeps on burning up uncontrollably.

That’s an absurd thought, of course, Bones has never seen, leave alone let a patient die from a simple fever his whole life. These are not the dark ages, for heaven’s sake.

But the possibility alone, imagining this unsettling real scenario of losing his best friend to some stupid jungle sickness, after everything they’ve been through, it keeps him awake, keeps him sharp throughout the night.

And pissed, too. The universe knows, Leonard Horatio McCoy is never quick to spread love and affection, but if there’s one thing he really fucking _hates_ more than anything, it’s not being able to help a patient.

This is ridiculous. There must be something he overlooked, something about this damn planet he’s not taken into consideration. He leaves Jim for a few minutes, after making sure his friend is at least coherent enough for now to not try and get up or some shit, and collects a few samples from outside the shuttle. Earth, air, water, grass, he even manages to catch a bug that at least looks like it’s not capable of eating him alive. Anything the computer can analyze in the next hours to come up with some answers.

But for what? If it was environmental, he’d be lying next to Jim right now, sweating buckets, talking to some long lost relative and fantasizing about making admiral in a year. Well, with slightly differing details in execution. Point standing. _Something_ happened to Jim that for some weird reason had decided to pass on the person in the room with usually the shittiest luck in the universe, and if Bones can find out why exactly …

He startles upon a particular loud moan from next door and quickly inserts the last sample in the analyzing slot before going back to Jim’s room, picking up a new set of icepacks on the way. For the moment he can’t do anything but keeping the temperature down as much as possible anyway, but he’ll be damned if he fails at that too.

“I’m here.” He hurries to the bed when he hears something that sounds like his name between those whiny, high-pitched sounds. It’s getting worse. Maybe a light sedative for the moment … “Don’t worry, we’ll …”

He forgets what he was about to say when he comes close enough to realize Jim isn’t trembling and shaking on his bed this time, at least not from the fever. He’s on his side, turning away from Bones, the cover loosely pooling around his hips, but the way his hand moves there’s really no doubt about what he’s doing.

“Bones …”

He freezes. There it is again, no mistaking his own name from Jim’s lips, for whatever reason he might be muttering it when he’s busy masturbating. It’s the delirium, of course, it must be. His skin is still heavily, unhealthily flushed, and when his head drops on the pillow, his back arching against the sensations of his quickening pace, his usually so brilliant blue eyes are unfocused and clouded.

“ _Please_ …”

“Jim?” Bones feels equally like an idiot and an asshole – he shouldn’t be standing here, when his friend is clearly too disorientated to even realize. But his friend is also still his patient, and he’s already left him out of sight one time too much these past days. And his voice, so pained, so desperate …

Still hesitating, he leans over the bed and gently presses Jim’s shoulder. He doesn’t react, and judging by the even higher temperature of his skin, that’s hardly surprising. Fuck, this is so ridiculous. It’s degrading and more than just a little annoying. Bones feels like a med student on his first day, and even more useless than back then.

“Jim, what is it? What do you need?”

Silence, the only noise in the room remains the unnerving hum of the machines, Jim’s exhausted quick breathing and the hard, brutal movements of his hand touching that certain piece of flesh that has gotten him in so much trouble already in his life. Well, this time definitely takes the cake.

There’s nothing even remotely arousing or even sexual about the picture, that swollen, oversensitive skin between Jim’s trembling, tightly squeezing and tugging fingers already looking sore again. It’s just the desperate, instinctive attempt of a poisoned mind to find relief that his doctor can’t give.

Yet some part of Jim apparently is still awake, aware enough to know exactly what’s going on and how wrong it is, that it should be Bones doing something about his condition instead of watching him beat off like the world’s most uncomfortable perv. Though Bones remembers a certain streak for voyeurism his friend has, he kinda really doubts Jim _actually_ wants him here right now.

Since he can’t do anything but wait right now, finally he leaves, not without easing those ice packs carefully under Jim’s hurled up, sweating form and renewing the IV he’s put in him a few hours ago to get enough fluid in him.

The door already closes behind him when he hears another breathless moan. At least there doesn’t seem to be any pain right now, maybe that’s the best they can get for the moment.

Bones stops in his tracks again when he actually hears what Jim is muttering under his breath, with wide eyes.

_Bones, please … Want you …_

Well, _fuck_.

 

Needless to say, he again doesn’t get much sleep this night, in none of the short phases that he spends in his bed between checking on Jim. He knows he needs it if he doesn’t want to fall asleep over Jim’s lab results tomorrow. But most of the time he just lies there, listening to the quiet noises from the other room and tries to convince his confused mind that it had been just the fever talking.

What else? It’s James fucking Tiberius Kirk.

Oh _please_.

Finally he ends up taking care of his own unsatisfied needs, knowing that will help him find some rest.

Also knowing he’s going to hell for this, because no matter how hard he tries not to, he ends up picturing the scenes in Jim’s room while he does. Getting off on a patient’s sickness. Perfect. It’s that sickness taking away every restraint from Jim, he knows that – not that there are that many to begin with, admittedly – but a small part of him keeps insisting that it’s _still_ Jim doing that over there. _That’s_ how he looks when he’s turned on, when he’s jerking off, and fuck, it’s really way too hot, the way his hips roll, his legs spread so widely, as if he’s waiting for someone to help him out with a finger or two up that perfect ass … And that pale throat offered freely for someone to sink his teeth into …

Inappropriate, useless _and_ a creep. Leave your license at the door when you go, doc, thanks for playing.

It’s a shallow, unsatisfying orgasm but at least he can sleep for a little while afterwards.

 

At some point, finally, the noise next door stops.

Jim is passed out, when Bones checks on him quietly, completely exhausted and so sore that Bones leaves the salve from last time right there along with some lube for the next night of pure desperation. But at least his temperature has settled at a somewhat normal level. For now.

Bones knows better than to get his hopes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cue pseudo scientific revelation and actual smut...


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bones heard many stupid stories before, but this will be framed in the Hall of Shame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, that got long... Stupid pseudo scientific explanations :D. Also we finally get to the fun part in the next chapter.

When Bones has to strap Jim to the actual fucking bed because he’s just fallen out of it for the third time, he gives up on the lab results. Not like he expected anything out of those anyway. It’s not the fucking water or the some microscopic insects, maybe accidentally swallowed during or after the crash.

Something’s just plain wrong with _Jim_.

And by the pace it’s getting worse, it’s very possible he won’t make it to the end of the week.

Bones is no longer huffing at the idea. Just because it’s never happened in his career, doesn’t mean it isn’t happening _right now_. Jim is lying _right here_ before him, sweating his life out, shaking from the pain in his burning cells, talking nonsense, screaming at his dead father, insulting Pike and Bones and Spock in turn.

Occasionally he’s asking for Bones to fuck him, that’s obviously when the hallucinations are especially bad, and Bones has stopped startling at it. He has other things to worry about when his best friend is dying right before his eyes and he can’t do shit about it.

But no, he’s not running from this possibility anymore that becomes more reality with every hour, no matter how terrified he is of it. If it just so happens that this time he loses, at least afterwards he doesn’t want to regret not having been aware of every single moment. He wants to be fully awake, to try whatever comes to mind to make it easier for Jim and always catch those few lucid moments in between his friend has, to hold his hand and look back into those reddened, scared eyes with as much calmness and encouragement as he can still muster.

But his voice shows he’s no longer confident when he says, it’ll be alright. And though he hates himself for it, he’s relieved every time Jim closes his eyes again, so he can stop pretending.

It’s become routine, the few things Bones still _can_ do to keep the temperature from racing into new record heights. An improvised blanket of ice packs he changes every hour, the occasional shower run, the IVs with the desperately needed fluid and the varying med cocktails that Jim’s body collectively refuses to accept. Cool soft cream on those dreamy pillowy lips that have turned into a dry, tortured red.

Just like another certain part that isn’t too impressed by the growing weakness of Jim’s overheated body. By now Jim gave up trying to do something about _that_ , or he’s just simply not coherent or strong enough anymore. And none of the meds that Bones has already considered when this whole thing started, to get his hormones under control, did any good either.

Next time Jim seems to have passed into that state of complete exhaustion, Bones decides to try it the old-fashioned way and gets another ice pack for that one particular swelling between his captain’s legs. After all that impressive stamina, at this point he wouldn’t be surprised if even that won’t work, but no … Jim, unbelievably, even in his sleep gives a small, protesting whine when the ice cold fluid pack is gently wrapped around his rock hard penis, and after a minute or two, at least that problem is taken care of for the moment.

Bones feels a confused frown on his face when he puts the icepack away and once more applies some of that healing salve, musing with a last rest of humor if these chastity devices that some people with that kind of fetish prefer, would actually do any good here. That’s not gonna happen, obviously. But there’s something else off about the organ he’s so carefully handling. A thin ring of hardened tissue at the base of Jim’s penis that definitely hasn’t been there before and even more definitely has no business being there.

Bones’ heartbeat goes up in an instant and he’s on his feet to get the nearest scanner before he even realizes. It’s rushed to get any hopes up, he knows that, but this is the first actual clue in days, the first actual physical change in Jim’s body he can monitor and maybe – just maybe – reverse.

The body scan sobers that childish illusion as quickly as it’s come. Without a deep tissue monitor that the shuttle med supplies aren’t equipped with, there’s no way to tell for sure. But from the looks of it, Jim’s already not exactly undersized penis for some reason unknown has decided, it needs a few spongy bodies more. Whatever it is exactly, it’s deeply embedded in the flesh, and without a proper isolated room for surgery, there’s no way Bones can get it out. At least not without risking serious damage.

With a frustrated sigh, he drops the scanner on the bedside table. He’ll have to talk to Jim about it – if Jim will ever be even remotely coherent enough for a talk like that again, his treacherously doubtful mind whispers – and probably, if it comes to it… In the end, if he has to choose between such an operation or letting Jim’s heart stop without trying even the most desperate thing, he’ll probably do it anyway.

But for the moment he’s really had enough of morbid thoughts.

After making sure Jim is provided with everything that Bones can do for him right now, he leaves the shuttle for a walk around the block. Which in their case is two and a half minutes at snail pace but still better than nothing. He needs to clear his head.

A glass of Bourbon would be really great right now.

 

First, he doesn’t even see her.

He’s just so used to the dull environment outside the weakly glowing and buzzing perimeter by now. The unimaginative shades of green and brown, the endless aggressive bird chatter and the occasional unhappy growl of the raptors in the distance who still haven’t forgiven Bones and Jim for not allowing them to eat them. There’s hardly anything to see, at least not in a few foot radius, that’s why Bones seldom leaves the shuttle. Because it’s even more depressing than sitting inside, staring at the dead com console and wishing he’d had paid better attention in all those physique lessons, so he could at least estimate the odds of their crew figuring out their location.

He’s just walking back to the half ripped door of their current home to do just that, when he looks up absently, out to the clearing where they stranded.

The woman stares back at him impassively.

“What the …?”

He jumps, so hard he nearly falls on his ass, and he could swear his heart stops for a moment. Fucking heat. Fucking jungle. Fucking _everything_. He didn’t even hear someone approaching.

After the friendly welcome the planet has given them, his first reaction is to run or to grasp the nearest weapon, no matter how much he hates handling a phaser. Just in time he remembers, there’s nowhere to run, for the same reason that there’s no reason to try and defend Jim and himself. That shield won’t let anything come through anyway. And if the stranger does, if she’s a hostile and has a way to break through … Well, then they’ll all end up raptor food and it doesn’t make a difference.

It’s uncharted territory out here, as far as Bones knows, and it’s more than unlikely, the girl will understand him. But her robust, well sewn clothes, a primitive firearm by her side and the metal rod she carries give away that she comes from some kind of civilized community at least. Maybe they can find a way to communicate.

Prime directive be fucked, they already violated that – and this time even involuntarily – when they landed here. What Bones needs right now is answers, help and a truckload of luck.

“Um … hello.” Great beginning. Very eloquent. He shouldn’t have ditched all those first contact classes. “I’m Leonard.” He points awkwardly at himself and then the ship. “Our … um … we kinda … We came from the sky …”

“You’re Starfleet officers. You must be McCoy. Your Captain, he’s inside? How sick is he?” The woman with the pale blue skin and the short white hair talks slowly, with a heavy accent on the consonants, pausing every few words to search for the right phrase. She also speaks perfect English.

He must have stared at her like an idiot because her full lips are twitching in something that resembles a smile. “I come from your other ship, there I learned your language. My people learn fast how to speak stranger’s language. Your comrades, their ship crashed a few days from here. Your man Spock says, you should not worry. Uhura and he are healthy. He also said, there won’t be any more ships.” She pauses and lowers her head in a gesture that expresses both compassion and sadness. “Your people, they’re wiser now. They will not come back.”

Bones is still trying to process. Spock, Uhura … what? His emotions are running wild enough to give him whiplash. For just the shortest of moments, he’s felt like doing a small victory dance, shouting for Jim, telling him that they’re alright now, that soon they’ll be out of here. Unfortunately the woman didn’t stop talking there.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand. Who are you? _Where_ are we?”

“I am of the Akiv, we live here.” She startles, raises her head when something rustles in the bushes just a few meters away. But nothing comes close, the quiet tripling of clawed feet subsides again.

Bones stops being both impressed and confused by that when the girl takes a bottle out of her bag and renews some sort of glittering paste on her skin. So that’s that new awful smell of rotten corpse that his nose has been trying to get used to for a while now.

“I need to hurry, this doesn’t keep them away for too long. This planet is death, Leonard. I will not come back here, so you must now listen. We usually stay in our tribes, it is our only chance of survival. You’re too far out here. You will not make it to the nearest village, not like this.” She pauses for a moment, looks at him, looks at the ship, her large black eyes narrowing. “Later. You look strong. When the seasons change and the beasts rest, I will convince the tribe to get you. You and your other people. It’s a better life in a tribe. Until then, stay. Your ship is good. You are safe here.”

Bones leans against the hull of the shuttle, rubbing his temples when he feels a killer headache coming. The woman is anything if not helpful, at least with confusing the hell out of him.

“That’s very … nice, but by then Starfleet will have sent a ship that _won’t_ crash, woman … You still didn’t give me your name, damnit. You still didn’t say …”

“ _No_.” She interrupts him sharply, this time it sounds angry. “No questions. _No time_. It is dangerous out here and the survival of the Akiv must come first, always and forever. But I pity strangers, so I find them and tell them what they need to know. So you be quiet now, Leonard, or I will walk and you can watch your Captain die.”

“How do you know …?” In spite of her warning, he just can’t shut up, and when he bites his tongue, hard, it’s definitely not because of an annoying, four foot three tall skinny girl who stares at him angrily. It’s because he’s just forgotten one of the first rules of a hostile environment – again – and confirmed Jim’s dangerous condition before even knowing all the facts. He’s just not made for shit like this, there’s reasons he usually stays on the fucking ship.

She throws her hands in the air, a very intergalactic gesture. “Because I live here, can you even think? And because you look desperate, I will answer one more question, though you should know by now. Your Starfleet will not come because they cannot do so. The Akiv do not have flying ships, but we have seen many of the travelers fall from the sky. You can only come here, never leave. Your Starfleet knows that now. If you are wise, you will not cling to false hope. It makes life easier.”

The sympathy is back in her voice, and Bones wishes it wasn’t, wishes she would stop shaking her head in that soft, resigned way. It makes it way too obvious that while of course what she says is ridiculous, while their crew will never give up on them, at least the girl firmly believes they will.

Spock does, too.

Bones wills the cold shiver away that has him tremble for a moment. Greenblooded ameba-brain, still doesn’t understand how humans work even after all this time.

He doesn’t see much use in discussing that with a stranger of some primitive culture though, so he asks the only thing that really interests him when the woman stops to take a breath the next time. “You said, you know what’s wrong with our Captain.”

“It is nothing wrong, it is just his body adjusting to the environment. As will yours, soon. It is different for everyone. With your friends, it has already begun, they have already accepted the change. They are wise. It is hard for all of us in the beginning.” She lowers her head again. For a quick moment the hand not holding her staff is on her lower body, her full lips a small, hard line. Then she looks around nervously once again.

“But no one can change the fate of life on Akiva. It does not differ between us and strangers. Everything on this world wants to kill us, and our only strength is in numbers, so nature has adapted. It chooses us to breed, partners, lovers, man and woman alike, it doesn’t matter when there is two who do match. You are alone, so it chose you and your Captain. You will adapt or die. That is the Akiva way. Good luck, Leonard.”

She’s actually halfway off the clearing before Bones can finally think of something to say, and then it’s nothing more than a half-hearted “Hey!” coming off his lips. Even that one syllable breaks. If he’s been confused and mildly amused before, now the only feeling covering his soul in an icy breath of dread, is fear.

In a minute it will be better, in a minute he’ll be successfully telling himself the girl is delusional or just wanted to scare him – why the hell trust a stranger anyway? He can’t keep standing around here, listening to the wild stories of a weird native. He has to go back inside and make sure, Jim doesn’t die on him before Bones can tell him the hilarious story he’s just been fed.

In a very small but also very persistent and very clear part of his mind though, he begins to suspect that maybe it’s not a story at all. At least not one you’d read to your kids before nighttime.

He can all but _feel_ the woman rolling her eyes at him, but she stops for another moment and turns, right on her heels, her hand a hard, impatient fist. “I have said all this many times before so I realize you will not believe. I do not have days to convince you of what you soon will see with your own eyes. I have told you what you need to save your Captain.” She pauses, her face darkens again. “And yourself. It will soon start. There were many who came here and never accepted. They all died. Be not like them. Be wise. There is not a thing to be afraid of. Akiva is your enemy but it will also take care of you. It _wants_ you to live, to breed. Everything that will happen, it will not harm you. Your bodies are now made to survive.”

 _Tell that to my Captain_ , he wants to snap, but finally he lets her go. It wouldn’t have done any good.

He really needs the rest of that Brandy now.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bones has never been afraid to get his hands dirty for a patient.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's finally happening for the first time :D. It's still pretty awkward because duh, sex pollen treatment, but it will become a lot more romantic and interesting soon ...

20 minutes or so ago, Bones had wished for it to happen, but when he comes back inside from that unsettling conversation and finds Jim expecting him, with open, focused eyes, his heart clenches. He’d have preferred to think about this absurd meeting for a while.

Sadly, Jim is nothing if not reliable when it comes to be an annoying shit, even on his death bed. He’s also been busy while Bones was gone. There’s that slightly salty, unmistakable note in the air that Bones had learned to identify as Jim’s very own in the last few days, and the cover isn’t nested around that certain spot anymore. Apparently the wonder weapon masturbation helped once again. Right now that’s more terrifying than anything.

„Who was that?”

„Native, a friendly, I hope. Seems we’re not the only ones, Jim. Stupid greenblood and his girlfriend crashed not far from here, they seem to be alright. Girl’s invited us all to some village in a few months, when those things are asleep.” Bones waves outside vaguely, tries to sound casual, distanced. “Not like we’ll still be here then.”

Unfortunately Jim – at least when he’s not sweating buckets and telling an invisible incarnation of his old man that he’s a cowardly stupid bastard who left his Mom and him without second thought – is too sharp a man to brush such a development aside.

„Might not be the worst idea if we are, though.” His words are slurred, heavy, he keeps on wiping his face in that cool, damp cloth Bones left on his pillow, too weak to lift his hand to do it. But at least he isn’t delirious right now. That’s a step forward, no matter how little Bones wants to hear what he has to say. „Starfleet just lost two more officers to a hostile environment. They’ll spend some time figuring out how to get us out of here. At least we have some friends until then.”

„We’ll see.” Bones smiles stiffly and drops on the chair next to Jim’s bed, reaching for that datapad with the lab results from before. As stupid as that native’s tale was, maybe it gave a hint about how to help Jim’s condition …

_As will yours._

The room is too hot to shiver and he knows, Jim saw. He should have stayed outside.

„What else did she say? No … don’t. You’re a horrible liar.” Jim’s lips twitch in a weak smile too. It must be painful with all those tiny cracks and the raw skin. It also breaks Bone’s heart a little. „Just tell me. How long do I have?”

„I have no idea.” At least that’s the truth, and his voice even trembles only a little. „I don’t know what it is yet, Jim. I’ll find out, don’t worry. You’ve been pretty out of it for a while, but look at you now …”

„ _Bones_ …” How much he hates that half amused, half exhausted tone. Only Jim can make him feel incredibly stupid for his flaws and deeply appreciated for them at the same time. „I’m a big boy. I can take it. Do I need to _order_ you to tell me?”

„Pretty sure, as your CMO, in the state you’re in, I have the authorization to relieve you off your duties, Captain.” Sighing, Bones drops the datapad and tiredly rubs over his chin. He nearly startles, feeling half a month’s worth of stubble. Taking care of his own body hasn’t been exactly high on the priority list lately.

„It’s nothing. Just some creepy shit the girl was yapping about. Says, the planet’s evolution has altered the genetics of higher intelligent life forms or something, to put reproduction before anything and prevent extinction.”

Put like that, it doesn't sound half as stupid anymore. It's actually a pretty common mutation for endangered species. Only that kind of evolvement takes hundreds, thousands of years, especially for humanoid life forms. Bones quickly shrugs the new wave of uncomfortable shivers down his back away.

„Said a lot crazy stuff about breeding and pairing and how everyone has to adapt, people who strand here, too. Really, don’t let it give you nightmares”, he hurries to add when Jim’s eyebrow shoots up. It’s more probable, he’ll be the one with dreams though. „No environmental influence could have that kind of effect in such a short time. I’ve checked on you about a thousand times. Your results are …”

„… perfectly normal, yeah, I remember.” Jim suddenly turns away, with surprising much energy. Ice-cold, Bones realizes, he must have felt that ring of new flesh in his lower body too. Suddenly he feels sick. „So why am I dying?”

Bones reaches out but pulls his hand back before he can touch his friend, when he sees his back muscles tightening. „I won’t let you. Did I ever give up on you? I’m just saying, it won’t help going crazy about some native’s supposed mating rituals that have nothing to do with us.”

„They don’t? Really?”

Uncontrollable, insatiable arousal. A physical change with exactly one purpose once it came to it.

_You are alone, so it chose you and your Captain._

Jim asking for him in his delirium. Himself lusting over his best friend who happens to be terminally ill.

Then again, Bones has been after Jim’s ass since the day they met. Can’t put _that_ on some forced sex ritual.

As little as anything else. Stupid, even thinking about it. Just a few coincidences.

„It’s just a story, Jim. Do you see _me_ lying around, fantasizing about Spock or some shit?”

_It will soon start._

That was half a chuckle from Jim, he’s pretty sure. Better than nothing.

„Relax, kid. It’s all good. Rest, I’ll get us something to eat.”

„Bones.”

He’s already half way out of the door, he could pretend he didn’t hear. But Jim is his best friend and he’s maybe in the weakest state Bones has ever seen him in. He can’t just turn his back on him.

„What if _is_ true? If it’s like … a natural drug, and you need to release certain hormones or something to fight it? You’re the doctor, you tell me you’ve never heard of something like that.”

„Sex as a cure?” Bones asks dryly, nearly aggressively, because really, that’s more Jim’s level of medical understanding. „A cure of what? Your bloodwork is normal. Sex is just hormones, Jim. Adrenaline. You’ve had enough of that in the last few days and it didn’t magically make the symptoms go away, did it? What is this? Seriously, if you want me in your bed, kid, all you needed to do was ask.” He’s joking, of course. Mostly.

„I would never …” Jim sounds offended, but stops himself, forcing out a deep breath. „Don’t make me quote Spock here, I’m begging you, but ... I’m just trying to consider every possibility.”

„Possibility considered. Possibility dismissed for horseshit characteristics.”

„But what _if_ …?”

Bones realizes, he’s not getting out of this. Fine then. Not like it can hurt, talking about something that’s never gonna happen. „Then I’d do what I always do, Jim. My job. Can we stop talking about sleeping with each other for science then? It’s really starting to weird me out.”

„You’re such a charmer.” At least Jim finally shuts up about it.

And Bones tries to get his racing heart and heavily shaking hands under control.

 

Bones keeps telling himself that he would have done it anyway, without some really strange first contact the day before. Last time he tried to help Jim with force, it’s just made his condition worse. Ice won’t do any good here, not in the long run. On the other hand, when Jim felt good enough to take care of his arousal the natural way, he’s always been awake, recovering even, for hours afterwards.

It’s only logical that when Bones wakes up the next day and finds Jim half passed out again, once more with a fever that will soon leave his body with serious damage, he reverts to the one thing that he knows will help.

„Bones, what are you doing?“ Jim is not as out of it as he’d hoped, sadly. Then again, even if that conversation will only drag out his torture, it’s probably better that way. Bones has been enough of a creep lately.

Still for a moment he’s at a loss of what to answer, because what _is_ he doing? Grasping for the most desperate straws, obviously, pun not intended.

Finally he says the same like last night, because no matter how little he likes it, it’s the truth. „My job.“

„Bones, that’s not ... You can’t ...“

Jim is clearly fighting to keep his eyes open. His weak hand trying to push Bones’ arm out from under the cover falls back to the mattress. He needs the little strength he has to form words. Bones can only imagine what he must be thinking, after that talk they had yesterday. It’s outrageous, and under different circumstances, Bones would try at least discussing this with him again.

But they just have _no time_. It’s a miracle that with a fever that high, Jim is actually talking to him right now and not telling George Kirk again how he could have saved his ship, Earth _and_ himself instead of leaving his family, thanks for nothing, dad.

Maybe he’ll think it was a dream later, that would make things easier for both of them.

 _Fucking coward_.

Bones growls and promptly sees Jim shiver. The muscles of his lower body, right where Bones’ hand has come to rest, tense up. Delirious sex-crazed Jim obviously likes the sound. And the idea.

Now Bones just has to sell it to his wake self – and himself – that there’s nothing inappropriate about it. Frankly, he should have done it days ago instead of acting like the universe’s oldest virgin.

_it chose you and your Captain_

_you and_

He grinds his teeth and rests his other hand gently, soothingly on Jim’s forehead, cursing at the feeling of touching Sahara sand. He needs to hurry.

„Don’t be childish. I’m not buying into that whole mating thing, I told you. You feel better without being aroused, we can safely assume that, and I don’t want to ice you down again. At this point, your body probably couldn’t handle the shock. It’s the only logical decision.“

Yeah, he’s not saying that again, like, ever. The last thing he needs to think of when he’s about to jerk off his Captain, is Spock.

Jim’s protest grows weaker along with his strength. Maybe it’s those damn artificially induced hormones. His pupils are definitely dilated by now, his breath is coming too quick, too deep. Again that certain muscle twitching right under Bones’ hand and this time he just can’t hold back, he has to feel it.

Yep, no doubt, Jim’s penis is a lot more on board with the whole idea. This time Jim doesn’t push him away.

Bones quickly leans down to kiss that frown off his sickly hot forehead and squeezes his shoulder soothingly before he does something quite similar with his other hand.

Jim moans, and fuck, that’s the most beautiful sound Bones ever heard, so different from those pained, forced noises from the nights before. This shouldn’t be put on either of them, but at least it won’t leave any scars.

„You’re a doctor, Bones ...“ Jim tries for a last time, even while he’s already thrusting his hips in Bones’ still shy touch. „You shouldn’t have to ...“

„I shouldn’t have to“, Bones agrees. „But this is happening and it will help you. It’s not uncommon, Jim, you know. If you had some sort if paralysis, I’d prescribe you a physiologist to help you masturbate too, if that’s what you needed. It’s just ...“

„... medical, yeah, I _get_ it.“ This time it’s Jim who growls, and suddenly Bones’ pants feel too tight for comfort. So much for a purely clinical view. „Can we just get on with it then?“

Bones is tempted to answer that it’s a good thing Jim is good looking because he sure as hell isn’t romantic, but decides, under the circumstances, it’s better to swallow the remark. The situation is awkward enough as it is, no matter how much he tries to pretend it’s not.

It’s a huge difference, watching a patient give in to unnatural sexual desires or suddenly feeling that throbbing piece of flesh in the palm of your own hand – fuck, he’s huge, has he been that huge a few nights ago? – and this time not for treatment. The only fluid Bones is using this time on that deeply reddened skin, is the smooth, cool glide of lube that’s supposed to ease the friction for Jim’s tortured cells. He starts slow, light and keeps away from most sensitive parts completely – Jim’s circumcised like most males nowadays and has been exposed to non-stop stimulation for days. Bones doesn’t want to have him jump straight off the bed to the new kind of touch.

But if there’s any pain, Jim doesn’t consciously notice it, Bones realizes, relieved, and the way his friend sinks back into the mattress, those painful wrinkles around his eyes finally melting away, his breath suddenly a lot more regular, all after just a few seconds … It’s enough motivation to forget all last reservations.

It’s also really fucking hot and Bones is simply too busy monitoring Jim’s reactions – strictly for scientific reasons of course – to forbid himself to notice. Like how that little subtle twist when he brings his hand back up, has Jim’s rock hard cock leak pre-cum until there’s more of it on him and Bones’ hand than actual lube. Just a light pressure right against the underside of the crown that actually has Jim _keen_ in pleasure and spread his legs shamelessly. It takes all of Bones’ considerable self-control to ignore that kind of invitation. He’s not here to explore Jim’s sexual desires – that certain reproach is still very clear and loud in his head.

At some point, still, he opens his pants, because the pressure of his own ignored erection against the tight fabric is getting too distracting. But somehow he keeps from touching himself, keeps his free hand on Jim’s shoulder, calming fingertips caressing up and down that sweat-covered neck, through sticky strands of golden hair. Pulse check, monitoring life signs, of course, nothing else.

If Bones wasn’t so busy _not_ moaning like a creep at the pretty sight before him, he’d be impressed by his own bullshitting skills, even in the most unreal of situations.

It doesn’t take long, not after Jim has basically spent most of their stay here hard and desperate. Soon enough he’s writhing and rolling his hips again, his cock straining against every of Bones’ artless but firm strokes from root to tip, but this time it’s not desperation, it’s pure enjoyment. Whatever mutation has manifested in his body, at least for the moment it doesn’t seem to affect him, even that additional ring of muscles is hardly noticeable. That deep, drawn out moan is on his lips again, all doubts obviously forgotten. Fuck, and the way he keeps on mouthing Bones’ name, interrupted just by an occasional “please” and, in the end, a more pressing, demanding “harder, _harder_ , goddamnit, Bones, please …” The last _please_ ends in a still weak but completely painless, high-pitched scream. Warm thickness – so fucking _much_ of it, what the actual _heck_ , apparently Bones has been serving under some kind of sex alien all the time after all – spills over Bones’ slowing hand, and Jim’s body finally goes completely lax and pliant.

It takes a few more long minutes until his breath evens out as well, but until Bones is finished wiping him down with a soft cloth, nothing about his blissed out demeanor gives away how close to death he’s been half a day ago.

He’s not asleep enough to not grasp Bones’ arm before he can get up to throw the messed up fabric away and wash himself, with _very_ cold water. It’s a tormented look on his friend’s face, but for the first time in long days it’s one that’s not clouded, and for the moment that’s all Bones needs to know. “I … Bones, you … I …”

He interrupts him, not unfriendly but with enough impatience to let Jim know that now, he’s the one who’s not in the mood to talk. “You’re better, yes. Get some sleep. There’s fruit and water on the bedside table. Tomorrow I’ll do another lab on you, then we’ll see if we’re closer to an answer.” Only they both already know it. And tomorrow it won’t be any easier, talking about it.

But Jim doesn’t hold him back and Bones really, really needs a fucking cold shower now.

 

When Bones finally lays down in his bed later and rubs over his face, desperately trying to drown out all thoughts, his forehead feels unnaturally hot.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim is back to life and, unsurprisingly, has only one thing on his mind.

If Jim wasn’t so fucking sore, he could swear, this whole thing had been some really weird, long dream.

Seriously, nonstop horniness – Bones might not believe it, but he _was_ a little old for that –, masturbating before the one man he had never advanced, because there was no one whose respect and affection he needed more … Rutting into the bed in despair, begging for a fuck, the whole misery only topped by getting his CMO of all people into the embarrassing situation of having to rub him off? Under different circumstances he’d check the kind of booze he had last night right now, and send in a request to ban it from all Starfleet ships.

He isn’t on his ship, though, instead he has gotten said CMO in the biggest mess as of yet, with no way out in sight, and the throbbing pain of overworked muscles in his lower body is a pretty good indicator that this incident has in fact happened.

No time like the present to deal with it.

He’s still feeling slightly off, too hot, and the hope that this whole thing is over is probably premature, but at least he can finally get up on his own again. You forget to appreciate essential things like that, until you can’t do them for a while. He makes it to the shower, slowly but without feeling weak in the knees again, so he decides to let Bones sleep for a while longer. Not waking up to Len hovering over him can only mean, his friend’s exhaustion finally got the better of him. He deserves it after all he’s done for Jim in the last days.

Especially last night.

Jim groans and leans his head back into the cold water spray, trying to freeze the memories. It might have been necessary, maybe they’ll even have to do it again. But allowing his mind to indulge in that pathetic place where the memory – vague as it is – still has him shiver and wish for more, is both unprofessional and a dick move.

Most literally.

Bones hasn’t asked for this, _he_ most certainly didn’t enjoy it, and it isn’t his fault that Jim has been wanting to eat him alive since the day they met. They’ll have to deal with this whole situation reasonably, and using it as an excuse to finally get in his best friend’s pants definitely doesn’t belong in that category.

The water helps washing the last of filth from Jim’s mind for now, or at least reducing it to a quiet warm hum in his loins, easy to ignore.

It’s motivation enough to put together a little breakfast – not so little on his side because he’s starving – and have a hum on his lips even as he makes his way to Bones’ room. About high time to get back to work.

Knowing Spock to actually be not far from here – at least Jim’s pretty sure that was no hallucination either – has lifted his spirits exceptionally. The com console is still parts, but maybe it’s enough to get at least a short range signal through these damn interferences.

Maybe they can even try leave the shuttle, to get through to their crew mates. That stranger could move outside without being eaten, right?

Enough with the moping already. They’ll find the others and together they’ll find a way out of here. Really, the world _impossible_ hasn’t suddenly started to exist in Jim’s vocabulary, just because some really annoying planet wants to fuck with him. Again, literally. Enough with the puns, too, he decides, grabs one of the apples from the tablet with his teeth to shut up his growling stomach, and finally knocks the door opener with his elbow.

Jim blinks.

Stares.

Blinks again.

The tablet starts to slide from his weakening arms. Later he can’t remember putting it down.

His brain is too busy trying to process the complete and utter overload of his senses.

Holy. Shit.

 

Jim’s eyes adjust first, probably because it looks so painfully familiar, being confronted with a very naked and very horny McCoy, hurled up on his side, too busy jerking off to notice his visitor. The frustrated, longing noises not only remind Jim very, very clearly of the last days, they also have all blood rush downwards so quickly, he has to grab the doorframe not to double over.

„Bones ... Fuck, no.“

But it’s not only the scandalously arousing scene of a surprisingly well-trained, unclothed form splayed out before him, that leaves himself right back in that desperate state within seconds.

The air is like a wall he runs into. It’s not particularly hot, though Jim doesn’t need that one scanner that Bones seldom took off his skin in those last two weeks, to know that his friend is the one with the unexplainable fever now. It’s not exactly humid either. Still if feels like their shield failed them and Jim walked right into the jungle instead of a closet sized bedroom. The air is incredibly heavy, laced with the faint salty smell of semen and something sweeter that Jim can’t quite make out. Something that is undeniably, overwhelmingly _Len_.

Whatever it is, it’s creeping right into every of Jim’s cells, has his instantly hard cock twitch in reply and takes his breath away. It won’t be until much later that he’ll realize he’s just been dosed with a tsunami of pheromones, but boy, does he feel it.

A pained grown from the bed startles him out of his shock and he quickly heads to the bed, but stops still in his tracks when Bones opens his eyes and looks at him with so much anger and so much wild panic at the same time, it makes his heart bleed. His movements under the covers stop abruptly, and it looks like it’s actually physically hurting him.

„ _Don’t_! Get out!“

„Bones, calm down. I’m not gonna hurt you …“ Jim searches for words, helpless, offended that his friend would even think something like that, but then again, the way Jim has acted these last days, voluntarily or not – and will probably be acting again, already he can feel that overwhelming, unnatural need pulsating through his loins – he’d probably not trust himself either.

 _No_. No, actually it’s quite fucking unfair. He _has_ kept the reigns on jumping his CMO so far, and yeah, he’s pretty sure that’s not gonna change. He just has to stay awake and alert.

„I’m here, Bones, it’s alright. I’m gonna look out for you.” He takes just a second to get one of those famous icepacks from the storage, leaving the door open though, because he’s afraid Bones will try and lock himself in, and in this state, Jim will certainly not leave him alone.

But no, Bones is still right there when he comes back and kneels down next to the bed, carefully lifting his friend’s head to push the icy fluid back under his neck. He winces in sympathy when Bones hauls and pushes his unruly hair back from his eyes clumsily. „I know. It helps though.“

Only it doesn’t. There’s just one thing that helps all this and it’s the one he just can’t do, especially as long as Bones is giving him that warning look. He can’t use the shitty situation they’re in as an excuse to touch this gorgeous body, no matter for how many long years he fantasized about exactly that. He can only do the same Bones has been doing for him all these last days. Finding out what the fuck is going on – some weird stuff about dark alien prophecies and some kind of sex pollen seems to linger in the back of his mind – and how they can stop it. And until then, keep now _both_ of them alive.

He has to ask him at least. It’s still dangerous, it will still hurt because it’s way too little, way too clinical … But Jim can probably accept that same explanation that Bones used yesterday, when he gave him the desperately needed relief that his own hand was too weak to still provide. Helping a patient isn’t about either pleasure or abuse, and maybe he can at least spare his friend some of those long, torturous days he went through himself.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to …? You said it yourself, Len. Just a treatment, right?”

“You’re no doctor, Jim”, Bones snaps at him. It would be reassuring that he actually still can be his usual grumpy self instead of falling into hallucinations and weakness, if it didn’t hurt so much.

“No. Guess I’m not. I’m just your best friend who doesn’t want you to suffer. I guess that’s not enough.” A sharp, annoyed furrow between his brows, Jim takes one of those plates he brought and leaves it on the box that serves as Bones’ nightstand. He adds the second water glass from his own breakfast when he takes another look at the bed covers and founds it practically sweat soaked, without much surprise. “Stay hydrated. Would be too bad if you were the one who needed an IV next, seeing as I’m obviously unfit to take care of you.”

“Jim …” That doesn’t sound half as pissed anymore, there’s actually a hint of an apology.

Jim isn’t in the mood to wait for an apology. They can’t treat each other like this, they have to give each other room where there is none, or they will be at each others throat in no time. So he leaves, not without letting Bones know quietly that he can change his mind anytime if he wants or needs to.

 

Back in his own bed – that’s as far as he makes is because his legs are suddenly shaking again – Jim hardly makes it to rip his pants open and grab himself before he comes in his underwear like a teenager. The world whitens out for a moment. His still heavy, still hard cock keeps on spilling, with every clumsy stroke, every time this image from a few moments before keeps on playing in his head. Bones all naked, those impressively strong back muscles contracting while he’s working himself, the same way Jim is doing it to himself now, the same way Bones has done it to him yesterday …

A glimpse of perfect round butt cheeks under slipped covers …

Jim shouts, thrusts his hips up so hard his back nearly snaps, and he’s actually pretty sure he’s just come again, or was coming still, he has no idea, probably doesn’t matter. His clothes are a mess, he’s come all over himself, and his whole body is still shaking, asking for more, even long minutes after, nearly as badly as in the worst days of his fever.

“Holy Jesus”, he whispers, hardly realizing he’s talking. “What the _hell_?”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim takes matters into his own hands. Among other stuff.

With all the willpower he could muster, Jim made it through the whole night without checking on Bones even once, no matter how painful – and still sickly tempting – the noises were that came through the thin wall. His friend has made very clear he doesn’t want any help.

Besides, hour by hour, Jim feels his own condition growing worse again, feels this overwhelming heat creep back in that threatens to eat his flesh and soul. Continuous thoughts become a challenge, his concentration is lost somewhere between finding his way to the shower and tumbling back to his bed without breaking his stupid neck.

And in between he’s busy taking the worst edge off. By now he’s just moved on to using the healing salve as lube, probably not quite medically correct, but at this point, he’s getting too sore to care.

There’s not a hint of pleasure left in all this, if there ever was one, it’s just getting rid of that additional annoyance between his legs, with the faint hope that it will help clearing his head. He really needs to get back to making plans about how to cure this shit and get out of here …

Instead his mind skips back to the same evening. He keeps remembering how fucking good Bones’ hand felt, and then the memory of his naked body so _fucking close_ , so needy, so ready … As much as Jim hates it, at last those pictures help him reach those dull heights, the only satisfaction his exhausted body is still capable of.

He’s not stupid – if there’s one thing he never lacked, it’s intelligence. And he’s also more perceptive than even Bones sometimes realizes. He has very well heard the words Bones didn’t say when he talked about meeting that alien woman. What he was really afraid of when he sent Jim away yesterday.

Afraid – panicked, his body trembling, his cheeks deeply reddened from the embarrassment of his Captain seeing him that way. Bones has always been shy about his private life. For him this whole situation must be so much worse than for Jim, who has ended up naked on more than one hallway after a drunken night with women whose name he couldn’t remember the next morning.

But it’s not just the shame, or the anger, or the helplessness. There’s something Bones is not telling him, something about this whole situation that scares him to death. And from the pieces Jim got out of him, it’s not hard to put together.

Alright, maybe he’s been into his best friend for many years, maybe he could even imagine more than the occasional recreational sex. But that was never important enough for him to risk that friendship with a stupid, hopeless advance. It’s just never mattered enough to Jim, adding Bones to the list of his conquests, in one way or another.

And that’s the one thing that has changed on this damn planet. Suddenly it’s in the very center of his mind, minute after minute, imagining himself in bed with his goddamn CMO, fucking him into the mattress, hard, mindlessly, never stopping, no matter how much the body under his squirms and bucks, holding his arms down while he lowers his head to Bones’ neck and then bites, bites, bites …

It’s feral, it’s brutal and it’s nothing like him. It scares him how clearly he can see it in his dreams when the fever is at its worst, and wanking it away more and more seems to lose all effect.

Alright, shower again then. And right after, no matter how much he dreads it at this point, he _has_ to talk to Bones. They have to discuss how to handle the fact that Jim apparently has been imprinted on his best friend in some strange way, and what they will do about it. _If_ they can do anything about it – if their bodies continue to fight off this condition with that much force and speed, they’ll probably die of heat and dehydration, long before Jim has to worry about his delirium taking over and him becoming a danger to Bones.

It would be a lie, saying he felt better after a long half an hour of standing in ice cold water. But that’s as long as he manages before he goes crazy with the pain of a thousand needles hitting his skin. Fucking heat, fucking coldness, fucking everything. He wants to get off this planet and preferably never have sex again in his life. Or at least not with someone – _something_ – ordering him when and with whom he wants it.

He’s clear enough now to be angry, so that has to do. He stops the shower, still trembling, wraps a towel around his hips, and that’s when he hears the hard thud from Bones’ room, the unmistakable noise of a heavy body falling.

A groan of pain follows, real pain, not just that noise of exhaustion and frustration they’ve both gotten so used to.

Jim has never been out of a shower and next door so fast.

 

“For a doctor, you’re remarkably stupid.”

Jim is only not cursing and screaming through the whole process because Bones is heavier than he looks and he himself isn’t exactly at his best. It takes him more strength than usual, hauling his friend back on the bed. A nicely fresh made bed, sure, there’s some completely soaked covers lying somewhere in a corner, and doing all that, Bones obviously forgot that he’s running the highest fever Jim has ever felt on a human being. While no, of course he’s no doctor, he’s been to his fair share of medical places before and knows the basics of first aid. Which is why he feels at least qualified enough to kick Bones’ stupid – and still deliciously naked – ass. Of course only once he has him back on the bed and discreetly pulls the sheets over him and a certain little problem they still both share.

“Bones, this has to stop.”

He grabs his friend’s shoulders tightly when Len tries to avoid his gaze. Yep, Bones is definitely way too hot – in both a literal and a metaphorical way, unfortunately –, his skin is glowing and this beautiful green of his eyes is shadowed by an unhealthy red. Jim has to try and get an IV into one of his veins after all, because his skin, his lips are way too dry, even after Jim somehow made it to get half a bottle of water in him. That won’t be enough, Bones is obviously not orientated enough to take care of himself right now.

Jim is not even sure Bones can even really understand him, aside from that hurtful instinct to turn away from him, to not let him help. But he will have to, because for some reason Jim can’t quite grasp, within a day or two, the situation has completely turned. Right now Jim is the one doing as okay as can be and he’s not gonna let die his friend die on him for some stupid pride reason. Not while he has enough strength and focus to prevent it.

“I get the whole inappropriate thing, okay? I really do. I don’t usually make a habit of sleeping with my CMOs.”

“… got … just the one.” Bones’ talking is slurred and that exhausted, rough cough is coming back, but Jim is relieved to know that he’s not gone enough to not listen.

He helps him take another few sips of that water bottle, with one arm tucked firmly under his head and shoulders. He doesn’t let go when he puts the bottle back and at least this time Bones doesn’t try to wriggle away. Maybe he’s just too weak for it.

It’s worse, for some reason he’s so much worse than Jim was in the first nights, and he knows, he can’t wait, he can’t give Bones time. He’ll have to get through to him now.

“And I won’t let that one clock out, you get that in your thick head? We have to help each other out while we still can, Len. Or I’m afraid we won’t have much time to argue about protocol and moral issues anymore.”

Bones doesn’t answer. But Jim can’t feel no resistance when he carefully brushes his soft brown hair out of his eyes and with the other hand moves Bones’ arm away from where he pulls the covers violently against his stomach.

“I’m gonna touch you now, okay? We’ll give each other … therapy, just like you said, and then we’ll sit down together and find a way out of here. Okay?”

Again, the answer is just silence. But Bones closes his eyes with a shaky sigh and doesn’t try to turn away anymore when Jim lets his hand wander lower. He just grabs that cover again, loosely, keeping it where it is, and Jim lets him, leaves him this last shred of dignity he needs.

Maybe it’s better for himself, actually, if he can’t see, can’t watch himself trail those impressively well-trained stomach muscles with his fingertips, way too slowly and curiously for a quick treatment. It would have been no point, pretending he doesn’t enjoy this, not after he already figured out that his faint, lingering interest for this man has been multiplied by the number of stars in this system. Maybe he _needs_ to be aware, needs to allow himself to feel, react and enjoy, to keep this ravaging interest just what it is … his own silent suffering. Nothing that he will take out on Bones, at least not more than he needs to for keeping him alive.

But it’s so goddamn difficult.

That wild animal deep in his guts roars its ugly head again, pulls on his leash, sends armadas of heat through his veins, the moment his hand moves over that thin trail of hair leading him right where he needs to be. He can actually feel Bones’ body, his muscles, jump in forced, unchained lust. Jim is rock hard under his towel, and he hasn’t even fucking _touched_ him yet.

You can do this.

You’ve been in _way_ worse sexual situations, Jimmy.

 _You can do this_.

He’s caught a glimpse of it just a few moments ago, still he gasps and shifts, pressing his hips against the cool bed frame, shifting on his knees. Bones is big, and he is well-built, and his dick isn’t an exception to that rule. Too late Jim thinks that he should probably have gotten some of that lube they keep on using up so thoroughly. Bones must be just as sore as he is.

But when he slowly strokes up and down that impressive length with only his palm, he realizes, his friend obviously had more foresight than him before his fever prevented him from continuing. The sensitive skin under his gently circling palm is already slick and smooth. Just imagining Bones jerking himself off with a well-lubed hand has Jim’s hormones spike dangerously again. He quickly urges himself to move on, and not only because his friend is writhing and whining quietly under his slow explorations, more sweat pooling over his forehead, his chest.

Too dangerous to linger.

Too dangerous trying anything else than those quick, heavy strokes with an occasional probing tug to small, round balls, an encouraging light rub over an over-sensitive, hardly leaking tip. Bones is far more wrung out than Jim was at that point. Then again, he’s still slightly dehydrated, which is just another reason to hurry on with this and not think of all the other things Jim wants to do this gorgeous body. Like, leaning down to run his tongue over those hardened nipples, then licking his way up to just that spot on Bones’ neck he keeps fantasizing about, right where he wants to bite down while he fucks his lover, so deep, so hard, filling him up again and again …

Jim grinds his teeth and shakes himself out of it quickly, relieved that Bones still has his eyes firmly closed and hopefully didn’t see him drifting, as short as it was.

His friend is still shivering and trembling, but the sounds from his lips reveal that it’s no longer the sickness doing it to him. He’s not thrusting wildly like Jim did, he’s lying still, patient, enduring, enjoying, his beautiful full lips slightly ajar in a long, drawn-out moan, his head thrown back, exposing his neck so vulnerably ...

Jim has to turn his head away, biting his lip, hard, before he really gets tempted to use his teeth somewhere else.

That’s not what he’s here for. He keeps his hand where it is, the other awkwardly on Bones’ shoulder, mostly to assure his friend that he’s not taking advantage, that he’s just trying to help. No matter how much his own neglected cock protests. Not in this life, not with what they are.

He’s missed that window by lightyears. Back then, sometimes, he maybe wondered if Bones would have wanted it. And admittedly, yes, even now he has to hold back from letting his hand wander deeper, find out if he can make it any easier – and faster – for his _patient_ with pushing a few fingers up his ass. It’s never been a big secret, at least not to him, that his friend is bisexual. They lived together, for God’s sake, and Jim has had breakfast with at least one half-naked man in that time who came out of Bones’ room, and who looked decidedly well fucked out. But that’s never been them and it will never be.

So Jim continues steadily until he sees Bones tensing up, his eyelids fluttering, until he realizes his friend is a lot clearer to his surroundings now and just as shaken as Jim was at this point not too long ago. Now he can’t resist to at least lean down and press a soft, quick, stupid kiss to just the corner of his mouth.

“It’s okay, Len. I’m here, it’s just me.”

The stuttering thrusts into his hand become more erratic but weaker at the same time, as if Bones still can’t decide if he’s actually trusting Jim with this. His hands around the sheets are hard fists, his lower lip bloody from the force he uses to hold back the sound from his lips. “Jim …”

“I know. I’m here. Let go. Come for me.” This time it’s an order, one Jim didn’t know he wanted to give, but his tone really leaves no doubt about it.

He startles and Bones hips snap up, he’s spilling all over his hands, and just like that, the thin, shabby walls around Jim’s self-control scramble like toy blocks.

His senses kick in – that _cloud_ of pure _heat_ again, God help him, he’s drowning, he can’t breathe, all he ever wants to smell, taste, feel is this – his hand grabs his own wildly jerking cock hard and he comes right into his towel, all over the floor. His lips are on Len’s, he has no idea how the fuck that happened, but oh dear _God_ , Len is kissing him back, so desperately, offering himself so willingly with his lips wide open, and God help him, Jim is already half up, already kneeling on the bed with one leg before he realizes what the fuck he is doing and jerks back from the mattress like it’s caught fire.

“Fuck … _fuck_!”

He stares at Bones in bewilderment, shock, confusion and more than just a hint of fear and sees all of those expressions mirrored in Bones’ wide eyes. His only instinct is to run, run out, run away, he can’t give a fuck where, let those damn raptors eat him, maybe that’s better than what’s happening here, happening to him and inevitably to Bones because he’s a weak bastard.

It’s the look that comes after that holds him in the room, because if there’s one thing Bones clearly isn’t, it’s surprised. He’s awake now – as awake as Jim feels at least, which they both know still isn’t saying much – and he just stares at Jim, sadly and resigned, and then turns away.

Jim doesn’t take the silent offer to leave, he can’t. They can’t, it’s just gonna happen again and they’re still not closer to an idea of how to stop it.

After a deep breath, he draws the chair next to the bed and sits, his hand firmly on Bones’ still sweat-damp back. “Talk. Now.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bones has done a little research and is having a not so little freakout. Jim is little impressed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, they finally figured it out. Starfleet's best CMO and genius!Kirk my ass. Thank you to all who stick through my way too long emotional rambling and my non-native flawed English so far. Love you guys.

_Talk. Now._

First Bones doesn’t react and Jim wonders if he fell asleep or passed out even – after the amazing if still wildly inappropriate thing they just did, he wouldn’t be surprised. And then Jim probably should just leave. Being able to sleep is rare for both of them these days.

But then Bones opens his mouth, and the broken, resigned tone in his voice nearly makes Jim cry a little himself. He only usually sees his friend that defeated when he talks about Joanna. Sure, Bones is notoriously grumpy, he’s quickly angered, always cautious of the unknown, and he also fights like a lion for his patients and his crew, more often than not forgetting about himself in the process. He might do it reluctantly and grumbling, but Bones _always_ manages to pull through. He doesn’t give up on anything or anyone.

Except himself.

„I’ve done a little reading. These people out there on the planet, the Akiv … If we ever get to tell someone about them, they'll make the eighth species Starfleet encounters, that for some biological or sociological reason center their whole existence around reproduction. In a way they’re like overgrown intelligent tribbles, just without the cute and furry part. They live only to reproduce. There’s always two groups. Those who impregnate and those who carry. Breeders, many call them.“ A dry, hard chuckle comes from his lips. There’s nothing amusing about this, not in the least. „Starfleet ethnologists were a little more eloquent, if not by much. They divide them in Alphas and Omegas.“

„How very Greek of them.“ Jim’s usually very reliable sense of humor is suddenly heavily jammed.

Well then. So far what he’s hearing is basically the scientific confirmation of what Bones already told him about that conversation with the stranger he met, minus all the denial of course. It sounds a little freaky, alright, but frankly, Jim has seen stranger on his travels, they both have. Which is why he waits, his hand drawing soft, calming circles over Bones’ back. Still feels like there’s overstretched steel springs in there.

 _Go on_.

„If the girl wasn’t bullshitting me – and by now I’m inclined to believe she didn’t – the difference in this place is that the evolution effects not only the natives but everyone who comes here. She said ...“ For a few moments, when Bones was back in his field, analyzing, lecturing, he’d found his composure, but now he’s tensing up again, drawing the sheets closer around him, pressing his face into his arm until Jim can hardly make out the rest of his words. „Said it chose us. Like, the two of us, together.“

Jim feels his impatience growing, and also his annoyance. He gets that Bones is shaken by all this, he is just as much. But especially in a situation like that, they have to stick together more than ever.

„Len ... I know it’s a little confusing, considering I’m sitting here with the world’s biggest boner, but can you pretend for a second I don’t want to fuck you against your will and look at me?“

Bones startles as if Jim just punched him, and again he can’t help but hurt at the sight, at the realization how much these events are getting to his best friend. It’s just the damn hormones, of course, if there’s anyone who should know about post-coital melancholy, it’s Jim. Still, it’s unsettling. Bones has always been the stronger one.

But at least he finally turns around to Jim. His eyes are still a fiery red but Jim is not so sure it’s the fever now. „Somehow I doubt you’ll have a say in the matter.“

„You underestimate my stubbornness. One should think all those years taught you better.“ Another joke falling flat, they’re still dancing around the actual elephant in the room. „And don’t get me wrong: You’re more attractive to me than I probably should admit. But especially if we assume that all this is true, don’t you think I’d be rather out there, chasing the next available female right now, like I always do?“

A painful clench in his gut turns the attempted humor in his voice in uncertainty, worry, but not for the two of them this time. Uhura ... Spock and Uhura. For a few hours he nearly forgot about them, mostly because he knows that his first officer is very well capable of taking care of himself, and that Uhura can take most people hand to hand in her sleep too. If this whole thing is really happening, and to them too, Jim’s only comfort is that Uhura isn’t shy about kicking Spock’s ass if necessary, with or without sex pollen involved.

Bones shivers violently and presses his fists against his eyes with a slow headshake. Jim realizes he’s still missed the most important part.

„Most Alpha/Omega-species are hermaphrodites, Jim. Or they are able to change their physical attributes according to circumstance, like many animals do. Animals on Earth for example, just in case you wondered.“ When even the dry cynicism in Bones’ voice runs out of sharpness, Jim finally realizes in what kind of deep shit they really are. „Gender is quite a fluid subject when nature decides, reproduction comes first. Stop being dumb, kid, it’s not your color. Or did you miss that fancy new function of your dick?“

 _Refused to think about until it became relevant_ , was probably more like it, because that’s what he always does. Jim has to admit that probably wasn’t the wisest decision this time. Sure, he felt it, he’s spend more time with his hand on his cock in the last three weeks than in the whole last year. He just didn’t consider it to be of any significant meaning so far. But now that picture that probably has haunted Bones in his dreams all those last nights begins to form in his own head. And if he’s the one in this constellation with alleged super stamina or something ...

Along with the realization clicking in, his senses allow that one certain smell back in his nose that he’s been drowning out all these last minutes, that he just put on the wasted sheets or the fact that Bones probably didn’t make it to the shower since yesterday ... But this is not sweat. It’s thick, it’s sweet and it’s plenty.

This time Bones doesn’t stop him when Jim pulls the cover away. Sadly, he’s not only confronted with a beautiful long dick that’s actually already hardening again. Refractory period is obviously as little a thing for Omegas as for Alphas. The new sheets are already starting to soak through again, an accusing round spot building around Bones’ legs, and its spring is definitely between them. The fluid is clear, glistening faintly, it’s smooth and soft to the touch – Bones is flinching, but there’s no way Jim can stop himself from feeling it. Just a fleeting, curious fingertip to the inside of Bones’ thigh, but it has his own cock go from mildly interested to red alert in a second.

„Fuck“, Jim murmurs sympathetically.

His own voice sounds too quiet, too far away to him. It’s the blood pounding in his ears. Suddenly he’s painfully aware of that sweet tempting smell all around him, not quite the same as from a well turned on girl, though there’s hardly a doubt this stuff is serving the same purpose. But it’s close. It wants to draw his hand to the source, his fingers that still smell of the same oily substance, just from having them on his Len’s dick before ... Whoah, right. Realizing that Len must have been jerking off with that same stuff that his own body produces before Jim came in, nearly has him moan out shamelessly. Jim is definitely not gonna leave it at some high school petting this time. Actually he wants to turn Bones on his stomach right now and bury his face between his legs, find out if that stuff tastes as good as it smells, and then he’ll finally get his fingers up there like he fantasized about it for days now. Seriously, butt sex without that whole lube nuisance, why in the world would that be a bad thing?

He’s pretty sure he can convince Bones of the same once he’s balls deep in him and has him begging and moaning Jim’s name ...

It takes a firm hand around his wrist to keep it from wandering, to snap him out of it.

Jim stares at Bones’ scowl with wide eyes before he remembers who and where they are, and that, while those are all nice and warm thoughts in his head, they aren’t his own. At least he hasn’t asked for them, not here, not now. His mind is weakened and controlled by what’s happening to their bodies, and if he acted on that now, he’d hate himself way more than Bones ever could.

„Sorry ... I’m here, don’t worry. Told you, I’m not gonna give in to a few hormones, Len, okay?“ He rests his hand carefully on Bones’ hand when his friend pulls the cover back in place, hard, aggressively, not unlike the way he puts a hypo in when he’s especially pissed.

But _this_ thing won’t go away by covering it up and changing sheets. If they don’t deal with it one or the other way, one of them _will_ lose control soon. In spite of Bones’ demonstrative rejection, Jim didn’t miss that his eyes keep on wandering down to Jim’s hardly covered erection, and how Bones swallows and bites his lip bloody. Maybe it wouldn’t even be so bad if they lost it, after all they’re both grown ups and no stranger to gay sex, and they’ve seen enough in their lives to adjust to absurd situations. But Jim has always been a huge sucker for consent in his bed. There’s no way he’ll allow this to happen just because some plants and trees or shit tell him so.

„We’ll work through this, whatever it is. Maybe we should try find that out first. When was the last time you actually used on of your scanners on yourself?“

For the first time today he has the feeling, he’s actually getting through to Bones. His friend blinks a few times, absent, confused, but after he rubs over his eyes a few times nearly brutally, his breathing finally evens out a little. Maybe that’s all it took for now, assuring him that Jim won’t leave him with this shit. How could he when they’re so obviously in this together?

When Bones finally sits up and looks around, frowning, Jim already reaches for his shirt on the floor for him but considers better them.

„Shower first. We both need to cool off.“

„Won’t help for long“, Bones remarks matter-of-factly. „This place is serious about this whole mating thing, in case you haven’t noticed.“

„And so far we managed to refuse pretty well, didn’t we? Come on, Bones, light up a little. It really could be ...“

Jim honestly just meant to lighten the mood but when he sees Len’s face, he shuts his mouth quickly. He’s never seen his best friend so unbelievably angry, so helplessly despaired.

„Oh yeah, you think?“ By now Bones is grabbing those sheets so hard, Jim is sure they’ll rip any moment. „You know why they call the Omegas _Breeders_ , Jim? In all those reports about encounters with these species, there’s exactly one meeting with one of the Omegas accounted for, and that happened on a slave market. No Omega representatives, no companions, not even a pilot or a fucking trainee among them. That there’s no traditional patriarchy in those species, doesn’t mean there’s no gender roles. It’s pretty simple. If nature chooses you to bear the offspring, that’s the only thing you’re good for. Omegas have no profession, they don’t leave their tribes, they stay at home, raise the kids and wait to be knocked up the next time. Might as well look for a new CMO already, I doubt I’ll be fit for duty anytime soon.“

„Can we stop it with the gloom already? Weren’t you the one claiming this has nothing to do with us? Len, calm down. You’re not thinking straight.“ Jim drops on the bed and firmly takes Bones’ shoulders. Oh, but that’s a stupid idea. Now he’s sitting right in the middle of that sweet mess and takes a full dose of that other humid thing in the air that he still can’t quite make out. Not to mention the distracting proximity of a very naked, very flushed McCoy. He ignores all that violently and leans in closer to be catch a good, firm look in those panic filled eyes.

„I’m not even blaming you, in this fucking heat and with that virus, whatever it is ... We’re both off our game. That’s exactly why we have to keep each other levelled, okay? You’re the doctor here, think of this as a sickness. No one is coming to lock you up in some cage and nothing about our lives will be changed. As soon as we’re back on the _Enterprise_ , you’ll find a way to reverse this thing, as you always do, and in a year we’ll laugh about this.“

„We don’t even know if we’ll ever make it off this planet, Jim.“ There it is again, finally, the usual irrational pessimism. The things you learned to appreciate on this planet. Or maybe Jim just loves more things about Bones than he ever realized. In any case, the ol’ grumpy mood is a lot better than the apocalyptic craziness before. Seriously, like Starfleet would _not_ even change the rules of fucking nature to get them away from here. Sometimes it’s got its perks, having saved the universe a few times. “Even if … You said it yourself, it will take time and time is the one thing we don’t have. Once the fiver starts rising again …”

Now it seems to be Bones who needs to play out What ifs, like Jim asked it of him not too long ago, to be less afraid of what the next days might bring. That was before Jim realized that caring for each other has no limits in a deep friendship like theirs, and that childish reservations and moral restrictions are a lot less important than staying alive.

Maybe it’s the only thing he can do for him right now, to remind Bones of the same. “Then we’ll deal with it.” Jim leans forward, hesitatingly, but when Bones doesn’t startle back this time, he carefully presses his lips to that worried frown until it’s gone. It’s a new, strange kind of closeness, one they’re usually both not too keen on and Jim is not quite too sure if it means anything. Can even mean anything, ever – Bones has been fucked over by love too thoroughly and Jim never got to know it in the first place.

There’s no need to define it right now anyway, not when the bonds and borders between them are completely blurred by some artificially placed hormones. Right now this is just about surviving.

“Come on, doc, shower is waiting. You stink.”

“Fuck you too, kid.”

“Welcome back.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim and Bones have "the talk" after they figure out where the babies come from.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooops, how did that happen? I never meant this fanfic to have so many feels... Again, thanks to everyone who keeps reading, leaving kudos or commenting. I'm totally overwhelmed.

Jim is a force of nature when he’s worried about one of his own. Bones doesn’t even try and put up a fight when he’s being sit down in a towel-protected chair out in the store room and made to choke down a stale-tasting sandwich while Jim is in the shower. That’s where he’s being shoved next. At least Jim doesn’t insist on going with him.

For a while, he can just enjoy the coldness numbing his body, with every passing minute more. Maybe he’ll just stay here for the rest of the day, leaning against the smooth wall, relishing in the feeling of his skin burning and stinging with coldness, and in the violent shivers that at least don’t come from this one fucking _need_ … Only himself and blissful glorious nothingness. Who knew hypothermia could be such a relief?

Rely on Jim Kirk to ruin the first moment of peace in weeks.

“That’s enough.” The water is turned off, soft fabric wraps around his hips and Bones opens his eyes with an annoyed grunt.

But secretly he’s thankful, both that Jim cares and that he keeps up the necessary distance. If he’s being honest, he hasn’t expected that much empathy from someone with Jim’s reputation. “Thanks, kid.”

“Can you maybe come up with a different nickname while we’re on sex pollen, doc? It’s a little creepy.” Jim leads him back to his room with one hand just slightly in his back, one around his elbow, just in case the fever-weakness comes back. It’s weirdly sweet and surprisingly professional at the same time.

The newfound competence continues once Jim gets Bones to lay down, on not only freshly made covers but a new towel in the middle of the bed, as Bones registers right away. While he’s still trying to get comfortable and covers himself up quickly, Jim already starts to move scanners over his body, ignoring Bones’ rumbling that he’s perfectly capable of doing that himself. Considering Bones had all but to punch and cheat Jim through _First Aid I and II_ back at the Academy, this is remarkable. Then again, Jim spent enough of his life in the presence of medics to copy one or the other trick.

Finally Bones tells him, because the silence and the beeping of the instruments get too loud – are they always that annoyingly loud? Jim looks unbearably pleased with himself for a moment. Some things apparently never change. “You just wait, next you know I’m donning the scrubs look. Your nurses couldn’t take their eyes off me.”

“They already can’t. Why do you think I prefer to patch you up in your quarters lately?”

“Because it’s got a warm water shower and no one watches you torture me with hypos. Drink and turn around.”

The bickering almost feels normal, it feels like home, and Bones treasures every moment of it until he catches Jim’s last sentence and frowns. “Huh?” Only the roughness in his own voice makes him realize his mind has started to retreat, that his skin is starting to feel too tight again, and that familiar goddamn pulse in his loins. Well, it was nice while it lasted.

“That thing here says you’re starting to dehydrate again.” Jim waves his scanner around and shoves a water bottle in Bones’ face until he empties it, with an impatient roll of his eyes. “You make a horrible patient, just so you know. On your stomach, Len. Please?” He sighs when Bones makes no move to do it and gently puts his hand where it’s been just a few moments ago, on Bones’ lower arm. Only this time the light touch has Bones flinch away immediately. “Nothing I haven’t seen already. Let me finish this up before we’re too distracted, okay?”

Only now Bones sees the growing bulge under the light pair of shorts Jim is wearing which doesn’t exactly encourage him to follow the request. But if they want to help it, they have to know for sure.

Somehow he manages it not to roll right off the bed when Jim pushes his towel out of the way, though he has never felt so exposed, so vulnerable all his life, except maybe that one day in the divorce court. Knowing that it’s stupid, especially as a doctor, that it’s ridiculous to be ashamed of something as trivial as body fluids, doesn’t help it. This _isn’t_ normal, this is anything but normal, that’s the problem. While he knows in his rational mind that Jim is in the same boat he is, having undergone forced physical alterations himself, it’s just not the same.

Jim is not the one lying in a disgusting puddle of half drying oily stuff that comes dribbling from his ass. He isn’t the one chosen by this fucking planet to secure the survival of their species down here single-handedly.

If there was any doubt left before, the pictures Jim soon shows him wordlessly on the scanner, wipe them out for good. It should be a relief, seeing all of his insides intact on that internal scanner image. Apparently this is not one of those environments that reverses its inhabitant’s gender rapidly and irreversibly. Everything just looks and feels slightly out of place – at least that explains the cramps from the last days. Bones' intestines obviously had to make way for a set of organs that hasn’t been there before. Bones doesn’t need one of those three dimensional color scanners he has back in his med bay on the _Enterprise_ to know what those are meant for.

Jim stays silent while he sits up and reaches for a shirt. Stupid, useless really, his temperature is already rising unhealthily again, but he can’t stand to sit naked to his best friend right now. He turns the scanners off and Bones wishes he didn’t because the silence is deafening.

“Once we’re back on the ship, they can …”, Jim finally starts but never finishes. They aren’t on their ship, won’t be for a while

_or never again._

“Leave, Jim.”

“Bones …”

“ _Now_ , please? It’s starting again.”

“Exactly why I’m not going anywhere. I thought we agreed on this.” Putting away the last of instruments, Jim sits down on the chair with widely spread legs, his usual, not completely proper Captain pose, so completely not helpful. At least he folds his arms over his knees, leaning forward, to block the view.

“You know what I still don’t get? Why did it start so late for you? You seemed to be fine until …” He hesitates, but this time he’s not afraid to say it. “… until you helped me out that night.”

“Gimme that, ki… Jim.” Bones tiredly reaches for the datapad with Jim’s collected data and skips over those frightening pictures of his own fucked up insides with a shudder.

The blood Jim has pulled from his arm – so clumsily that Bones’ elbow is blue and green, and boy, is he going to give him a piece of mind on that once he doesn’t feel like throwing up anymore – has gone through a first lab by now. The results confirm Bones’ suspicion, especially after he draws Jim’s last lab from the shuttle network and compares the data.

“Pheromones. You’re leaking them increased ever since we got here, faster than the air conditioning can filter them out, and for the last few days I did too. They’re known to have a stimulating effect, especially after sexual encounters. It’s not a completely unusual concentration, that’s why I didn’t notice so far, but apparently our senses have been modified to pick up on them. Probably happens to everyone around here. That explains why that stranger knew so much about us after half a minute.”

“So what you’re saying is I induced this in you. Well, _that’s_ just perfect.”

Suddenly Jim looks seriously pissed with himself. He impatiently tries to wipe the new forming sweat from his forehead and curses when it only lands stinging in his eyes. He leaves just long enough to get them both new icepack wraps for wrists and neck, but Bones knows it’s really just an excuse to get himself together.

This is a new one. He’s sure as hell never seen Jim feeling that overwhelmed with guilt for his sexual escapades before.

“Stop being an infant.” He doesn’t mean to sound so rude, then again, Jim knows his bedside manners for years. Maybe it’s better to not try and be on eggshells around each other. “What’s happening to us, isn’t anyone’s fault. We just happened to crash on the wrong planet. We both didn’t ask for this.”

“Exactly.” Only when a triumphant smile curls on Jim’s plump lips, Bones realizes he’s just fallen into the most obvious Kirk-trap ever. Fucking jungle fever. As if he doesn’t know that damn smartass better. “So stop acting like an idiot, Bones. We’re sick but we found a way to not bite the dust, isn’t that enough for now? We might be forced to think of something better soon, but who knows what happens in the next few days? We could very well be found until then. Maybe in a week from now, you wake up from some harmless surgery and everything’s back to normal. Point is …”

He leans closer over the bed and puts his hand on that spot that nearly makes Bones melt into the mattress, makes his eyes flutter close, right there between neck and shoulder. That very same spot on Jim’s neck he fantasizes about biting down on for days now. Probably another alien thing, many nerve ends and hormone glands being close and all. In any case it’s a damn unfair spot to touch when being given a speech, but when he struggles, Jim doesn’t let go.

“Point is, we’re professionals and we’re friends and we should act like it. We’re also attracted enough to each other to do this without any regrets later, if I’m not completely wrong. Or is there something you didn’t tell me? A guy or a girl who’ll rip my head off for saving your ass once we’re back on the _Enterprise_?”

“Unfortunately not. I’d pay good money to see that.” Bones finally makes it to shake Jim’s hand off and leans back against the cool shuttle wall with a relieved sigh. Better. “Admit it, this is heaven for you. Finally you can make out with someone and have a perfect medical excuse for it.” Jim’s face darkens again, so much that in the artificial weak light, his brilliant blue eyes suddenly seem nearly black. Great. Sometimes actually Bones wishes someone _had_ taught him bedside manners. “That was a joke, Jim.”

“I know.”

“And you don’t hear me disagreeing, do you? I don’t want to have _Too prude for healing therapy_ written on my tombstone. That would make for a pretty shitty memorial speech for a doctor. But things have gotten a lot more complicated.”

He holds up the datapad again, his arms tightly crossed over his chest. The chill creeps back up his spine. The rough rub of a half soaked towel against his naked skin remind him just too clearly of his situation, and that Jim and him will have minutes at best to talk this through before the desperation will be too strong once more. And then he can’t be in one room with Jim. Not now that he has certainty.

“I can’t … This can’t happen, Jim. A bit of pressure relief, that was alright, that was good for our bodies, but I can’t … sleep with you. Not while I’m like that.”

_That’s exactly what you deserve, Leonard._

He sees Jim startle for a change and realizes that scornful angry laugh wasn’t just Jocelyn’s in his head, it came from his own lips. “I should tell the story to my ex if we ever make it out of here. She was so happy when we got the decision from the family court. Promised me I’d never see my kid again in my life and how she hopes no one will ever be foolish enough to have another one with a bastard like me. Wonder what she would say if she learned I don’t need help for that now.”

“You’re drifting again, Len. I know you feel at home there, but stop living in the darkest places of your head.”

Jim softly grabs his wrist and pulls his arm down before he can bury his face against his hand again, run his fingers through his hair until it hurts. “It won't come to that. I’ll be in control of the situation, no matter what happens. You know why? Remember how I told you I liked your looks earlier? I’m afraid I wasn’t being completely honest. I never really allowed it in, been a little too busy to. But I think I’ve loved you for quite a few years now.”

“You’re not exactly being a comfort, Jim.” Suddenly it’s way too hot in the room for a whole different reason. Bones’ mouth is too dry to speak, and water won’t help this time. It’s the hormones talking again, of course, Jim is already way too deep in that mindless need … Only Jim’s eyes are clearer right now than in weeks.

“It doesn’t matter right now. I’m not willing to deal with this as long as we’re both not being ourselves half of the time. What I’m trying to tell you is that I won’t hurt you, because I could never live with that, Len. I know that you think I’ve never outgrown puberty and can’t keep it in my pants as soon as I’m off duty ...”

“Jim, that’s not …”

“Yes, it is true and if I lived with myself during academy, maybe I’d think the same. It doesn’t matter now. All I need to know is that you believe me, that nothing is going to happen that you don’t want.” He pauses for a moment and for the first time in this painful conversation, Bones sees a hint of fear shadow his fine, clear features. “I’m not an expert on that whole attractants and mating behavior thing. But I’m pretty sure it will make things worse if you’re afraid of me. It’s also insulting as fuck.”

“Suck it up, you big baby.” Bones grumbles a little because he loves it just as little as Jim to be lectured.

And also because being grumpy and amused is so much easier than thinking about what Jim has just told him, so casually, as if Bones hadn’t spent the last years locking his feelings for this man away in the most hidden, treasured part of his soul. But Jim is right … They can’t do this, not here, not while they’re being so compromised.

Maybe it’s something to hope for later, something to help keeping up the faint belief that they’ll be found one day after all.

“Who says I’ve got anything to fear anyway? I’ve hypod you in the face before when you were being a dick.”

“So much for your claim that was all necessary treatment.” Jim grins back and gives his arm – is he really still holding it? – another soft squeeze. “Be right back.”

He brings new towels, lots of water, a few energy bars and a narrow metal construction Bones quite make out before Jim installs it to the sides of his bed and adjusts the mattress under his body to blow up in size. Suddenly the narrow uncomfortable field bed has turned into a somewhat more human king size. “That will do better, especially when we’re both out with fever at some point.”

“Wait, we had that all the time and you said nothing? Always knew you were a fucking sadist.” Bones pouts a little, but actually he’s too exhausted from fighting the reemerging arousal to keep it up.

And then Jim lays down next to him without much of a fuss and pulls him in his arms silently, and for a few blissful moments the world stands still.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of petting ensuing. Spoiler alert: The planet isn't impressed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is... so much unashamed smut in this chapter. Errr, consider it a thanks for all the lovely kudos and comments.

The night is a haze, blurred emotion and sensation colored by extremes, but one thing Bones later clearly remembers, the guiding star in a blind flight through an asteroid-poisoned nebula. Jim’s embrace.

Just as promised, Jim’s not trying to nudge Bones into doing anything, although or maybe just because it wouldn’t be difficult at all. And although there’s hardly an hour passing in which none of them is rutting down into the mattress in frustration or turning away to take care of the worst pressure.

But even then Jim never lets go off him. He has his arm gently around his waist, pointed upwards, fingertips caressing over Bones‘ arm and shoulder, always staying away from that one overly sensitive spot down his neck. Of course Jim knows about that too and he doesn’t push, not for one moment.

It’s the last thing Bones expected from this man who never fought his reputation of having slept his way through half of his academy year’s cadets. Bones doesn’t blame him, never has. How is someone who’s been left alone by so many people supposed to know how to commit? That, combined with a lack of stable focus on things, powered by probably more than a mild case of ADHD like many geniuses struggle with it … There’s a million reasons why Bones never made a move on Jim back then at the academy, when he realized it was way more than a little attraction to a ridiculously handsome man. It’s discouraging, even considering dating a guy who’s never seeing someone twice.

One after the other, those just as hurtful as meaningless memories fade in this night, softly stroked away by a warm hand that holds Bones down without too much pressure when he’s ready to jump out of his skin again, soothed away by long fingers curling in his hair when he can’t take it anymore and grunts another empty orgasm into the pillow, whispered away by comforting words when they’re in the shower and Jim washes off the new built mess of his legs.

At some point the rising fever even silences the doubtful wonder if maybe it’s still just the hormones turning Jim into the perfect more-or-less-platonic lover. Maybe he’s just waiting for Bones to be wound up enough to give in. Bones wouldn’t even blame him, not with the sickness taking such a toll of both of them. But the thought makes it difficult, at first, to enjoy these cautious gestures of affection.

Until finally Bones just doesn’t care anymore either way, because his chest hurts from suppressed gasps, his whole lower body feels like it’s on fire, and there’s no muscle that isn’t sore just from curling up on his side and punching the pillow and the wall in return. Most of the time Jim catches his hand when he does the latter which is probably the only reason why he hasn’t broken anything yet. Then Jim pulls his fist close every time and uncurls it softly, kisses his knuckles and goes back to just that light hug that hasn’t Bones’ naked ass pressed against his permanently hard cock.

It shouldn’t even matter. Bones’ personal life – especially his love life – has long stopped having any significant meaning to him. Loyalty, friendship, his job, making this universe just a bit of a better place, all that in the last years has taken the place of the conservative dream of an intact family life. But when he finally stops fighting the realization that Jim really cares, through and through, it helps ease the despair.

It doesn’t help ease the heat.

At one point they both must have dozed off. One of them probably was just too tired to stay alert and remind the other to drink something and do a new monitoring, to see if their fiver was already worth another shower run. At some point of tiredness, even the biggest leader’s discipline and the best-trained doctor’s routine fail.

That’s when things go from bad to catastrophic.

 

When Bones’ thoughts come around, vaguely, incredibly slow, he’s still in Jim’s arms, but now he’s facing him. He has one hand in Jim’s hair, desperately clutching down on the sleep-messed golden softness, and his forehead half pressed against his naked shoulder, half buried in the pillow. The hiding place only barely muffles the sounds that Jim’s tightly stroking hand on his cock gets out of him. Over Jim’s own deep growling moans, he can hardly hear them anyway. He’s a little too busy with his own hand, too.

_Fuck._

_Weak._

_Mistake. Stupid, stupid,_ stupid _…_

There’s a mild suggestion of stopping this in his head, _right now_ , because it’s way too close, it’s exactly what they wanted to avoid. But those annoying voices are easily drowned out by Bones’ too fast, uneven breathing and the heavy pulse of his racing heart in his ears. The throb is still down there too, not better but worse than ever.

But Jim is touching him, he’s taking care of him, with as much fierce determination as he can muster up, with his own dick tightly caught in Bones’ firm, nearly brutal grip. Their eyes meet, just for a second, and Jim does this wicked thing with his thumb that Bones remembers from the other night. It doesn’t fail this time either.

Bones’ hips buck and he screams out breathlessly. His lips start sucking down on one deliciously hard nipple and he doesn’t even try to fool himself that he’s just trying to silence his voice. He wants to make up for this whole mess, somehow, wants to make Jim feel good at least since he’s not able to heal him …

Jim whimpers his name and wraps his leg around him, pulls him closer, finally, finally that last stupid distance is gone, why did they even bother before? It’s so very clear that there never was a chance to fight this and why would they? This is what they both wanted, obviously, all the time, and maybe it doesn’t matter jack how it happened.

Only it does matter, and a small part of Bones’ mind knows he’ll regret these thoughts very soon.

But fuck this, because Jim is taking Bones’ hand away, his voice gravelly and rough with need and greed. “Let me …” Now it’s both their cocks in Jim’s hand, and it’s messy and clumsy and still too fucking hot, and Bones’ mind is flooded with white and red. This time it’s the pillow he bites down on because he’s pretty sure he’d have drawn blood if it would be Jim.

“ _Fuck_ …” His hand tightens in Jim’s hair, his other is on the wall, searching for leverage, pressing his body even closer into Jim’s while he’s humping his hand and his cock and it’s so fucking good, tender skin and hard swollen flesh and a clever calloused grip, and then Jim comes, without a warning, the stuff is fucking everywhere again.

Bones’ whole body goes tense, he can feel a new, heavy splash of wetness from between his legs, as if his own body is answering, screaming for more, but his throat is dry and the moan is too big to come through.

Then Jim turns his head and bites down on his biceps, hard, and Bones has his orgasm all but ripped from him, brutally, it’s like a punch to the gut, a painful jolt through his balls, his cock twitching helplessly in Jim’s hand. And still it’s not enough, not nearly, he’s still half hard and desperate and ends up collapsing in Jim’s arms, trembling, clutching to his back helplessly while he’s trying in vain to gain control over his body back.

 

It is as if the episode, as arousing as it was, just made things worse this time than even remotely better, and Jim knows. When Bones can finally bring himself to lift his head enough to look at him, his eyes are dark and restless with worry.

He tries to drag Bones to the shower, but at this point they’re both just too worn out. Nearly a whole night of just trying not to ravage each other and fight their own bodies has left them drained, physically but most of all mentally. Jim falls back on the mattress before he’s even up, his jaw working in annoyance as he looks around, trying to come up with an idea, anything that will help this absurd situation.

He looks so lost that Bones sits up enough to empty another water bottle, just to make him feel better, but then he lies back down on his side, facing the wall. He doesn’t want to ask Jim to leave again, not after all he’s doing, but part of him really wishes, he would be alone now. Because apparently his own … mutation, change, whatever this is, is way more stubborn and insatiable than Jim’s, or maybe Jim just knows better how to put himself together – someone who survived Tarsus IV probably came out with hell of a sense for self-control.

It’s more humiliating than ever, lying next to his best friend in an overheated, filth-covered ball of raw need, one arm crossed over his lower body, because the screaming emptiness there becomes more painful by the minute. There’s a stale taste of copper on Bones’ tongue, from biting down on the insides of his mouth, just to keep it fucking shut for five minutes.

And Jim just stares at him with those helpless puppy eyes, his face nearly white in the reduced light, his lips moving, but if he’s talking loud, it’s only a whisper.

Or Bones just can’t hear him over the sledgehammer of his own heartbeat in his head, also his chest is tightening, the sweat is burning on his skin, his muscles keep on clenching down painfully onto nothing and God fucking damnit, suddenly he wishes, it would be all over. His mind is drowsed enough now to become morbid, and a very distant, estranged part of him still knows and tries to rattle him back awake. But it’s so much more convenient, falling into nothing, crawling into the wall, rutting into the wet sheets, searching for anything to cool this unbearable heat.

Crawling in on himself, away from everything, from the pain, the _need_.

He can’t remember to have given his hand the order to move. Only when sharp pain burns up his spine, he realizes that his instincts kicked as soon as his mind tried to clock out completely, that his sub-consciousness is trying to work against that goddamn want for something, _anything_. Even if it’s just his own fingers up his slick-wet but still unprepared hole. It’s been way too long and there’s certainly nothing enjoyable about it now, but at least it’s the smallest hint of relief.

Which is why he grunts and growls, mindlessly, when a tight grip around his wrist pulls him away.

Not a second later, there’s a calmer, cooler hand ghosting over the sensitive rough patch of skin down there, and a tender pair of lips being pressed to his shoulder, an arm creeping around his waist, pulling him away from the unforgiving hardness off the wall. “Sh … It’s just me, Bones. Let me do this for you.”

“Jim …”

“I know.” Another kiss, a softly probing fingertip, just a slow, careful invasion, and yet it feels like something in Bones’ body is relaxing instantly. The next moan from his lips is one of desire, not of reluctance. “Just this. No fucking. I promised.” Just minutes after his own orgasm, Jim’s eyes are already glistening with lust again, but his touch is sincerely slow and tentative, and Bones has to believe him, believe it that he can and will hold back.

He does.

It’s better than the useless jerking off, better than his own hand too, a little at least. The half-awake part of Bones that still remembers everything they found out in the last few days, knows that this is just another delay, of course. This is not what his body demands and the endless torture and longing won’t end

_unless_

but for now it’s helping the emptiness and the cramps, and fuck it, he’ll take that.

He doesn’t protest when Jim lets go off him for a moment, just to pull him close against his body again, wrap his arm around him like before. This time his hand does wander, this time he lifts Bones’ leg carefully over his own, spreading him open, leaving him exposed and vulnerable. But his lips are on Bones’ neck, right under his ear, his breath is warm and calm and steady against his skin, and he’s got him. Jim has got him, Bones knows it, and he needs him, fuck, he needs him right now …

An actual sob of pure relief comes from his lips when that one careful intruder is back, ever so slowly sliding up inside him. There’s no pain now, no force, just muscles giving in too easily, and perfect fullness. Too little, not nearly enough … But he doesn’t urge Jim on, he allows himself just to lie there in his arms, every last reservation about all this long forgotten, and lets his … what? lover … partner …

_beloved_

patiently fuck him open. Two fingers are a lot better, and by now his body has remembered how to relax for this. He’s started to moan in earnest, lightly thrusting his hips down against the very welcome intrusion, and Jim complies, circling and scissoring his fingers ever so often between thrusting them in and out. The disgusting alien anomaly that marked the first visible change of Bones’ body, has become a useful help and there’s more of it now, more slick running down his legs and over Jim’s hand, and Bones hears him groan, feels his trapped cock jerk against his back.

Just for a moment he tenses, but Jim ever so softly kisses his shoulder and shakes his head, so he can feel it. For the moment, words aren’t necessary.

Jim seems hesitant to go further, until Bones can’t keep the throaty moans in even if he bit his tongue off and writhes in his arms, pressing down on his hand harder, reaching back to grab Jim’s hair again. He screams out in pure lust when there’s another finger added, it’s too much, too wide and absolutely perfect. The burning stretch has his exhausted cock finally fully interested in the proceedings. At least for a few minutes there’s wonderful careless silence in his head, nothing but the wet slide and the pulse of loosened muscle and nerve-endings on fire.

Then Jim suddenly presses his fingertips back, hard and completely on point and Bones realizes he’s not done it on purpose so far, the bastard, he wanted Bones shaking and out of his mind and completely pliant in his arms first.

Bones _screams_ , his muscles clamp down violently, and maybe Jim screams too, he’s not sure but there’s new thick strands of come all over his back. He’s coming too, for real this time yet it’s pitifully little, especially compared to the eruption that is Jim’s orgasm lately, but he should probably be thankful that this part of his body still _is_ working. That they didn’t take away everything that was him and his sexuality and preferences before they crashed on this god-forsaken place.

In all honesty, he’s just thankful that for the moment at least, this is finally over. Completely spent, he sinks into the mattress, just the smallest of noise on his lips when Jim carefully pulls back. For a moment it’s way too cold though Jim pulled the covers up over him, but then Jim is back beside him, there’s a soft cloth carefully wiping up over Bones’ back, and Jim’s lips pressed against the nape of his neck.

“ _Len_ …” Bones didn’t know there could be so many different emotions in a one syllable word.

“Don’t go.” It’s all he can think of to say, and for the moment it’s enough.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim is very adamant about saving Bones' life, but Bones is very adamant about not fucking up another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow, things just got really serious. Ugh, this is a really depressing chapter and I apologize. Sex toys and more next chapter though, does that help?

“You shouldn’t have.”

Bones turns on his back with a quiet sigh when he feels a weight dip on the bed dip next to him, and the stale but still tempting smell of coffee fills the air. He really appreciates it that Jim got up for him after he finally fell asleep for a while, but Jim needs some rest himself.

“Don’t think I’ll make this a habit. As soon as you’re back on your feet, you’re cooking again.” Jim is even awake enough to tease. It’s a small relief. After Bones has feared for his best friend’s life for days, now their condition takes a lesser toll on Jim than himself.

Just like it’s supposed to be. A ship needs its Captain.

Bones chomps down some cornflakes and an apple for the only sake of collecting some energy himself, enough to get up for an hour or two at least and work on the idea he had last night. He’s pretty sure, he can synthesize that smell of rotting flesh that the local girl had on her. That should scare the raptors off. Armed with two functioning phasers, enough protective layers to keep the insects away and a breather worth at least a day of clean air supply, Jim could make it outside.

Not to the other shuttle, they still couldn’t locate that. This banged up computer isn’t fit to find two single life forms. But the that village the girl spoke of … There’s only one gathering of higher intelligent life forms around here, according to their sensors, and from the looks of the topography it shouldn’t be hard to find.

It’s a chance for Jim to get some help, recover better than he can in here with a patient who won’t be going anywhere anytime soon. There he can wait for the day when Starfleet will hopefully find a way to pick him up.

Jim, as usual, can see right through his ideas. He makes it to stay silent on his chair until they’ve eaten. Only when Bones scoots to the edge of the bed to get up, he holds him back. It doesn’t take more than a gentle grip around his upper arms. Bones shudders when he realizes how big Jim’s hands really look on him. He has lost weight, they both have, and neither of them had a chance to work out in the last weeks.

Does he really think, any of them would stand a chance in that death trap outside like that? It’s probably just as hopeless as any other thought they had so far. But if it’s the last resort, he’ll make Jim do it. No matter how little he’ll like it. “Give me a few human minutes, kid.”

“Didn’t we talk about the whole nickname thing?” Jim lets go off him but turns his chair to block his way. “Just a second. I just need to … Bones, don’t do that. Don’t clock out on me here. Told you, I’m not letting you.”

“You can’t fight everything, Jim.” Bones folds his hands in his neck, his elbows propped on his knees. When his thumbs rub down absently over his chin, he grimaces at the feeling of way too much coarse, ungroomed hair. “You can’t _win_ everything. We’ve been there before, you should know.”

“We always found a way back out, even if we lost, didn’t we?”

“And knowing your dumb ass luck, it might happen again. But just for once I’d like to go with a backup plan into hell. If my fever keeps on rising like this, I’m giving this another two days, Jim. There’s only so much a body can handle before irreparable organ failure. So let me get to that damn computer and see if I can replicate something to prepare for that unenjoyable occasion, something that can get you to our new friends in one piece.”

“I’m not going without you, Bones.” The annoyance in Jim’s voice doesn’t reach his eyes. The brilliant blue of these mesmerizing orbs is still darkened by exhaustion and, much more disheartening, fear. There’s not much that can make James T. Kirk afraid. It shouldn’t make Bones warm and fuzzy inside that apparently the perspective of losing him has that power. Still nice to know.

No, he doesn’t want to go alone but Bones knows him well enough, his strength, his sense of responsibility, to be sure he’ll do it anyway if he has no choice. His sickness might progress slower but all alone, he’ll still be in danger.

Bones just has to make sure he won’t be on his own. “Just let me do my work.”

This time Jim lets him get up, but he wouldn’t be Jim if he didn’t have the last word. “Then do it here at least. Shower, then get your ass back here. I’ll set everything up.”

 

 _Setting everything up_ in James Kirk-vocabulary obviously has a very particular meaning. When Bones returns to the bedroom, sure enough, there’s a PADD on his pillow, hopefully filled with the network connection to the replicator and the updates from the environmental tests he’s done lately. Unfortunately that’s not the only thing waiting.

The lights are dimmed, there’s freshly washed sheets, and on the edge of the bed, a whole pile of towels, thoughtfully spread out to keep the new covers from being soaked through right away. Jim is naked save for some dark tight shorts that really don’t cover much.

Bones has a bitching remark about how that’s not the kind of work he was talking about ready, but then he sees Jim holding on to more water and a new ice bundle around his neck. So much for the hope that the next heat wave would at least pass him by for a few hours.

Still doesn’t explain the box with all kind of stuff Jim has standing next to his chair, especially not the very sharp looking old fashioned knife, probably taken from the survival kit.

“Come. Sit.” Jim doesn’t even turn to him, just asks, softly, and for a moment Bones can see the womanizing menace of their Academy time very clearly, a beautiful, uncompromising temptation with the confidence that no potential partner could ever resist. But this is Academy no longer and Jim has made a promise that Bones wants to believe more than anything, because their trust in each other and in their friendship is all they have right now.

But that Jim doesn’t mean to act on it, doesn’t mean he’ll drop the subject.

Bones’ legs are too shaky to make it to the other room or anywhere else in time though, so he doesn’t have much choice but to obey. Surely those damn pheromones dampening the air again, thick and irresistible, do their part. “Where did you even _find_ all this stuff?”

“Tweaked the replicator when you slept. We’re not eating much anyway, so I figured I might as well use a few memory slots for other supplies. It’s not perfect quality but it’ll do. Come on, I won’t bite. Just trying to make us look more human again.” Well, mostly Bones. Jim’s faint stubble is hardly even visible thanks to its bright color. But if it makes him feel better, it’s probably a small sacrifice. It’s not a shave Bones is dreading.

As soon as Bones is sitting before him, Jim reaches for a towel clad icepack he prepared. Covered by the soft cloth, the wrap is not that brutal on his skin anymore, Bones even sighs quietly in relief when Jim drapes it gently around his wrists, not tight enough to be restraining.

“And now …” There’s an unexplainable smirk on Jim’s pretty lips. He’s very obviously highly pleased with himself, he takes his fair time fiddling around with that brush and the thick white foam until he has Bones’ cheeks, chin and throat covered with it generously. “… you better shut up for a few minutes. I never did this before.”

Bones rolls his eyes but gladly takes the advice because Jim already has the damn knife in his hand. And while his hands are steady for now, Bones rather takes no risk with a blade anywhere near his jugular.

The nearness of Jim’s legs crowding his own without more than a gentle, reassuring touch and his free hand carefully steadying Bones’ head with a gentle grip in his hair, the alluring sight of pure, undisturbed concentration on Jim’s usual so lively face … It’s a whole new kind of intimacy, it keeps the usual worry and vibrating need for adrenaline at bay at least for now. And it takes the worst of hurt off when Jim begins to talk.

“I don’t fucking care about our chances. We can work on that escape plan of yours if that makes you feel better, but it will include both of us. And before one of your sensors doesn’t tell me that your heart just stopped beating and I can’t get it to restart, I’m refusing to think about you dying on me here. Just _cut it out_.”

Bones lowers his eyes in surrender because nodding is a stupid idea with a sharp blade scratching over your throat. With surprising care and skill, by the way, then again, he’s seldom seen Jim not mastering any skill, except for knowing when to shut his big mouth maybe.

If it makes Jim happy, he supposes he can keep up the act for a few days longer. That’s probably as long as they can betray this stupid sickness with a little making out anyway. And though there’s still every fiber of Bones’ dignity and stubbornness protesting against _that_ certain way to kill time … Jim and him can deal with it, and all said and done there’s worse ways to spend an exile than fucking your best friend for a while.

The actual fucking is the only thing that’s off the table here, though and that’s the only thing they could do to significantly better their situation, if all their conclusions are correct. Too bad there’s no such things as contraception for hermaphrodites on this planet.

Bones considers asking Jim for a moment, with hopefully enough irony to get the point across, if he’s already tried to teach the replicator how to produce some old fashioned condoms. But there’s certain things he really, really, _really_ wouldn’t trust a machine with. Besides, with the way Jim has been orgasming these last days, Bones really doubts, a little rubber would be of any help here. And in the long run, it would be just another delay. His body isn’t hungering to be fucked, it’s made to conceive, just like that native girl said, and nothing else will suffice.

And that’s the only thing Bones will not even consider.

What a blessing, he has Jim Kirk to do that kind of thing for him.

“That said …” Jim cleans the knife in the bowl with water he has between their feet and brings the clean blade back to Bones’ cheekbone, slowly, steadily moving it downwards with on point precision and just the right kind of pressure. The cool, pointed touch of sharp steel is a relief against Bones’ heated cheeks. It also keeps his mind from drifting away, from fleeing into tired, fever-drowned absence, no matter how big temptation is when Jim goes back to that conversation he never wanted to have again in his life.

“You’re the doctor, but I swore an oath too, Bones. I promised that I would do everything in my power to protect the life and health of my crew members, and I’m sure not gonna stop at my best friend. I can’t and I won’t force you to agree to anything, I don’t even think I’d be physically able to. If that’s any consolation, I think I’d rather take this knife right here and now and cut off any parts of my body that could get us in trouble. Even though that would be a horrible loss to the galaxy, obviously. _Stop it_ , seriously, I’m gonna cut you.” But his own lips are twitching too. He might be only half-serious about the last part, but Bones still believes every word. That’s what makes it so scary.

“Lean your head back. So, then, let’s engage in your favorite subject, Len, and talk life and death. If we do indeed assume I have to get you pregnant to keep you alive, will you really rather die?”

It’s really most unfair, ice-cold calculating, cruel and clever at the same time, finally getting those words out that they’ve both been avoiding like the plague while Jim has a fucking razor blade on his throat. It burns, in more than one way, his hands aren’t completely steady anymore and he’s very thorough about leaving not the smallest hair on his way. But he never stops, just keeps Bones’ head a little tighter when he feels the shiver going through his body.

“Because I’ll be very blunt here and call bullshit. What would you tell a patient who denies a safe treatment in the face of death? And _don’t_ roll your eyes. Right here, right now, it’s _exactly_ the same. We don’t even know if it will work, we know nothing about the condition we’re in. Might be you won’t even catch, and then a thousand things can go wrong. Why am I the one who has to tell you this? And even if, then we still got a few months in which it’s more than probable that we’ll be found and taken back to the ship, and then you have every right in the galaxy to terminate. And just in case you wondered, I’m with you every step of that way, as your friend, as your Captain and as someone who loves you. If you’ve got moral issues, you rather want to give it away or even keep it … Whatever you want to do, _I am with you_.”

He’s done, the knife lands in that bucket with a too loud, high metallic rattle, and Jim finally lets go off Bones, wipes the last of soap off his skin. Finally he carefully grabs his freshly shaven chin to make him look at him, the other hand nearly painfully grabbing his thigh. “Just don’t throw your life away as long as there are options.”

“ _Options_.” The hateful growl in his voice startles Jim, but the stubborn bastard holds on, he doesn’t back away for even one second. Fucking Iowa pitbulls never know when they’re in too deep. “You just don’t get it, do you? Those are really great options, Jim. Choosing a fucked up aggressive planet to bastardize my body for something I swore I would never do again? I’m a fucking _doctor_ , Jim, and you _know_ me, you know the kind of person I am. You really think I can go and end a life, willingly? I shot people for the first time in my life during the Yorktown mission, and I still have fucking nightmares about ending those bastards. And giving it away, really? Willingly sentence a kid to grow up without his real family, _again_? As if fucking up one daughter’s life wasn’t good enough? Great perspective.”

“I never said it was pretty. You know, Len …” There are tears in Jim’s eyes and that’s the worst thing about it, not the lump in Bones’ throat that made those last words so hard to get out, or the black hole that has once more sucked his heart in and left nothing but emptiness.

Jim knows that Bones lives with that certain regret everyday and still would do the same all over again, he knows how fucking much it hurts, still, years after. But he doesn’t back down, not this time. He’s learned a little too much for Bones’ taste about how painful treatments are best administered intensively and without any break. He just pauses long enough to run gentle fingertips over Bones’ cheeks, wipe away the shadow of something that’s not exactly sweat.

While he’s not being held in place anymore and while he’s still furious, Bones finds himself unable to pull away. At this point he’s not even willing to decide if it’s the hormones or not anymore.

“Sometimes you assume too much. Did you ever wonder why Carol left for Genesis without looking back?”

Bones doesn’t, then again the whole Carol thing was a mess anyway. He can’t even put the finger on when it started. Soon after the whole Khan mess, probably. After a lot of awkward flirting, Carol and him realized that they were kickass best science friends but had as much romantic and sexual tension as Spock and Archer. Some time later, Carol ended up in Jim’s bed, and Bones never had hard feelings about that, at least he told himself that. He was kinda impressed even, when the two of them actually were seen hanging out more often. It wasn’t really serious, but Bones who honestly can’t remember Jim seeing a girl continuously, like, ever, couldn’t help but wonder.

And then Carol suddenly was gone, off to a planet, a project that’s so classified that Jim couldn’t even tell him about it now if he wanted. It probably doesn’t matter, anyway. What matters is the sudden deep pain in Jim’s eyes and the choked tremble in his voice.

“She told me when she was eight weeks in. Nurse Chapel made sure it didn’t go into her file. Three weeks later, the situation was solved. The only thing Carol was more devastated about than the miscarriage was the question whether her reluctance, our whole fucked up … thing had her body make the decision. I wish I could have told her, it wasn’t anyone’s fault.” His voice breaks for good, and when Bones reaches out to him, speechless, completely stunned, he leans into the touch like a drowning man, holding on to Bones’ ice-cooled hands desperately.

“The last thing she told me before she left was that she wanted to call him David if it was a boy.”

“Why didn’t I know about this?” Bones pulls Jim into his arms when he breaks down, finally, the way he should have years ago. Would have, maybe, if Bones would have pulled his head out of his own ass and realized what was going on instead of polishing that little sting of jealousy. He usually knows everything what’s going on at his med bay. He looked away, as simple as that. Not anymore.

“Chapel kept a lid on it, Carol begged her.” The words Jim gets out between helpless quiet sobs, are so full of remorse, so full of regret and self-loathing that Bones just can’t be angry for long. He can just be there for him now, gently rub over his back and shake his head softly when Jim continues with all those words of blame that Bones is sure Carol never told him. It’s not her speaking. “She loved being on our ship, you know? But she packed her things and went away, and I just let her. I let her, Bones, I didn’t even _try_. You think you’re the only one who fails when it comes to love and family?”

“Why risk it then, Jim? Why now, why here?” They will talk about this other thing, later, in the next days, whenever Jim feels like it. A first step is made by finally breaking this silence, and Bones is not about to let Jim drown in that self-hatred any longer. But first they have to deal with their own hopeless misery. Especially now. They have to make sure to not make the very worst possible decision again, _both_ of them.

Jim tiredly lifts his head off Bones’ shoulder. His eyes are red, but they’re clear, so hauntingly clear and determined. “Because I believe in second chances, Len, but I also believe in the right of choice. I believe you can choose to live and you can choose to be happy and if it comes to it, you can choose a kid to be happy. With or without you, whatever is best for it. You have your own life too and it matters just as much.”

Bones can’t think of anything better than to raise his shoulders and let them fall, exhaustedly. The conversation, short as it was, has drained him of any ability to think about this catastrophe anymore, at least for a while.

It doesn’t help that they’re both breathing too fast and deep by now, unconsciously staying much closer to each other than a supportive hug demands. Jim’s hand is somewhere way too low on his back and Bones’ lips are too close to his ear when he murmurs the only apology he has right now. They’ll have to continue when their bodies let them next time. “I don’t know if I can accept that, Jim. I just don’t know.”

“Try. We still have time. In the meantime … I’ve got this.” Jim tiredly nods down to that box, to certain tools he hasn’t needed for his little shaving session before.

Bones rolls his eyes dramatically even while there’s a very welcome tingle in his loins. One thing Jim is really good with is improvising. “Only James Kirk will re-modulate a replicator and come up with sex toys first thing.”

“Shut up or I’ll produce a gag next.”

“If you feel the need to gag me, darlin’, I have a better idea for that.” Bones is dazed enough by more determined, better aimed touches down his backside to talk without thinking much and only realizes what he just said when his face is flushed deeply red.

Jim just stares at him blankly and pushes him back on the bed wordlessly.

Bones ends up naked before he is.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim never does anything half-assed. Pun not intended. Bones tries to keep up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised. Filthy, glorious smut, with more where that came from.

It should be a no-brainer how much easier it has suddenly become, enthusiastic consent lifting all of the last reservations and tensions from between them. Try and not let your best friend die is one thing. Accepting that this is what they both always wanted, turns the small sleeping hole into an unhindered blaze.

Bones hadn’t even realized how much Jim has been holding back before. Now he’s being taken by a thunderstorm of unashamed desire, dragged into that bottomless ocean of sin that is James Kirk in his bedroom, and after a few minutes he’s pretty sure, he was wrong all the time.

 _This_ is how he’s gonna die. And happily.

They might both still not be any closer to being healthy, but for the moment it’s only raw need clouding Bones’ head, silencing the heavy talk they just had about loss, grief and their own stupidity. And in Jim’s darkened pupils he sees nothing but wanting to make up for 8 years of waiting.

Jim kisses like he commands, with the casual self-assurance of natural skill, and the knowledge that he’ll master it rapidly if he doesn’t happen to have it. Without the shock from last time, with no clicking teeth or rushed claim involved, Bones allows himself to enjoy it for once, one gentle hand in Jim’s hair slowing him down whenever he’s too eager to lick into every inch of Bones’ mouth. One leg lazily over Jim’s hips, once they’re rid of the last of their clothes, he gladly lets himself be courted, just the way he’s been longing for it.

He wishes they would take more time for it, but the way their hips keep grinding, cocks barely touching yet rock hard, is a vivid reminder why they can’t. Not if they don’t want to end up in mindless, aggressive heat.

Bones’ teeth give Jim’s lush lower lip a gentle tug. “Come on, you deadweight, make some room for an old man.”

Jim knows everything he doesn’t say and isn’t a childish pain for once. He doesn’t bereft Bones of his closeness either, not for a second, but just kind of shifts his weight until he’s curled into his side and can touch him without breaking away from his mouth. It’s like he’s starved for the affection himself. Maybe he is. Bones remembers his not too nice estimation about how Jim is always searching for the next adventure, how he never lets anyone into his life, least of all stay there. Maybe that protective distance actually goes both ways.

Maybe it doesn’t even really matter if it’s only the hormones factoring in. Until they’re Captain and CMO again, Bones suddenly realizes, he wants them to be exactly this, because it’s what they need to not go crazy in this isolated tin can. They have nothing but each other here. How Jim all but worships his lips, one hands nearly awestruck on his cheek, finally helps him realize that it’s exactly this what they have to protect right now. Or they might as well lower their shield and let the raptors in.

Jim immediately seems to feel his body relax into the mattress, and how Bones opens up his mouth a little more, inviting that curious tongue in, how he lets go of the crumbled sheets around them and buries his second hand in his hair too, nudging him closer. There’s the low vibration of a chuckle on his lips. For the first time in days Bones sees that soft spark in Jim’s turquoise eyes that he has once fallen in love with. “Took you long enough.”

Before Bones can even blush, he brings his mouth back down, for just a quick kiss, because there’s only so long you can ignore hell of an erection when you are naked in the same bed. Jim keeps his gaze as he caresses down his chest in slow circles, holding back admirably, but his growing impatience shows in every flicker of his eyes, away to his little toy box, in the way he licks his lips, pink tip of tongue rubbing obscenely over that reddened spot Bones’ bite left.

It rustles in the back of his throat when he lowers his head deeper, shifting until his lips catch one of Bones’ nipples. They both startle, Jim mostly at the shocked little cry from Bones’ lips because _fuck_ , that’s way more sensitive than it should be. Then he turns his head and smiles at him like the fucking Cheshire cat before licking over the pebbled skin in earnest, alternating sides, sucking, pulling, biting down, until Bones is bucking underneath him and completely misses the moment when Jim’s skilled hand finally is back on his straining erection, easing them both back into necessary satisfaction.

But Jim isn’t about to let Bones or their damn fever or anything else rush him, not while they still _can_ decide the pace. Though Bones has little doubt in Jim’s exotic bedroom skills, this is not about driving them both crazy. His breath is going faster and heavier with every stroke, sure … A harsh, nearly too tight, perfect tug down, a gentler pulling up, nothing less wicked, with that perfect little twist and a pointed pad of thumb pressing right against the underside … It’s a good rhythm. But this time he feels coaxed into desire instead of being shoved head-first.

Not that he would mind getting his head shoved somewhere else at some point.

Probably Jim wouldn’t mind – hell, Bones, wouldn’t mind – but it’d feel like playing into this damn planet’s hands, going out of their way with all this. Which is why he keeps his hands mostly to himself instead of overcoming his exhaustion to give Jim more than the occasional gentle rub or squeeze. Nor does he suppress the needy whine for more from his lips when the newly built pressure in his lower body gets too bad. They can spend days and hours making out like teenagers if they ever make it out of here and get healed. If they still want it then.

If Bones is being painfully honest, it’s the main reason why he is still holding back. He wants Jim, and for more than a meaningless college affair, he never was so absolutely certain of that. Before he can’t be sure that Jim wants him too, without his dick telling him so, things will stay just like that between them. Fuckbuddies helping each other out with whatever need is imminent.

It’s enough, it _has_ to be, and they need to hurry anyway if they want to have a few hours of the day left for anything else. As great as Jim’s hand feels, Bones really had it with being stuck to the bed. “Jim, please …”

“I know. I’ve got you.” Jim presses his lips down on Len’s again, shuts them close, knowing how much Bones hates these degrading pleads from his own mouth. Propping his weight on one arm, he catches Bones’ eyes, lips slightly ajar, feverish sweat shining on his cheeks, when he moves his hand lower, cradling his balls playfully, until Bones moans and thrusts his hips up, his legs opening widely. Gently massaging fingertips against his perineum have him gasp and press down, search for that one just perfect friction he nearly forgot about.

Jim makes him remember all over again, two fingers knuckle-deep buried in Bones’ ass just moments later because now they’ve both had it with waiting. Jim is unbelievably hard against Bones’ thigh, the moans from his lips come short and ragged now. It must be so much worse for him, doing that, feeling Bones’ muscles clench around him like that, not being allowed to go further.

Bones can see his beautiful long cock jerk violently every time it happens and soon enough it makes his mouth water. Real memories mix with the alien desire inside, the emptiness becomes a throbbing pulse that devours his lower body and makes him press his hips down mindlessly, welcoming another digit in gladly. In another reality he would long have thrown Jim on his back and climbed him like a tree.

Here, now, he has to make deal with what they _can_ do, and Bones soon feels that their assumptions have been on point. It’s of no use. No matter how skilled those long fingers work his loosened channel … It’s just enough to have him writhe against Jim’s bare body, the uncontrolled groans from his lips turning to sobs. There’s no satisfaction, the agonizing clench of muscles just gets worse, until Jim’s hand goes weak and he’s still not any closer to coming.

“Oh, fuck this. Let’s give this a shot, Len.”

After another gentle kiss, Jim bends down to his new favorite box and comes back with what must be the most boring sex toy in existence, especially for Jim Kirk-standards. Long, black, smooth, hardly more in girth than two of Jim’s fingers. It’s also the silent proof for Jim’s understanding of this whole situation. This is not for college dorm experiments, it’s just a tool to fight the same basic need they’ve tried to fulfill for days now.

Jim is still achingly hard against him, and Bones keeps him close for a little while, not only to calm his own nerves. Even just slightly rubbing against him, the fruitless touch of their overstimulated erections is nearly painful, but Jim, just as hoped, suddenly tenses up above him and brings his teeth to Bones’ shoulder. Just an inch or two away from where Bones definitely doesn’t want to be bitten, though only his sub-consciousness knows why at this point. With his pupils blown wide, Jim is rutting against his stomach until he spills all over his chest. He doesn’t go considerably soft – Bones has stopped wondering about refractory periods at this point – but his breathing slows.

“Fuck, that … Len, I’m sorry, that was …”

“… necessary”, Bones finishes, the smallest smile on his lips letting Jim know, it’s more than okay. “Not like it’ll last anyway. Just … Please, I …”

“Open up for me, Len.” It’s not an order like that one time when Bones had been sure that whatever possessed Jim would rip his body apart if he didn’t comply. But a gentle request from those slightly chafed, dreamy lips goes a long way in a night like this, when only trying not to hurt the other beyond repair counts.

Jim’s fingertips are back between Bones’ legs first, the toy resting somewhere against his thigh while he takes a second to make sure Bones is ready for it. It’s ridiculous, in a way – Bones has never been celibate or prude, no matter what his reputation says. He’s had men, women, aliens, one she-male (though he didn’t know before the clothes came off but then didn’t see a reason to care), and many experiences in dark alleys, stranger’s apartments and night clubs that he can only blame on too much booze. Certainly not all of those adventures have been vanilla. While he’s not into everything he’s tried, he’s definitely not a stranger to objects meant to get a guy off. He usually would be telling Jim now to fucking _shove_ it – literally.

He _needs_ something inside of him, to chain that raging emptiness down, and _now_.

But Jim stills even his fingertips before they did more than slide in, and only when the adrenaline of anticipation subsides, Bones realizes, he’s once more underestimated Jim’s perception. They guy already knows his body better than Bones does himself. “Relax, Len … I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I know that.” Still, every fiber of his body suddenly is so tense that he can hardly move. His natural sense of defiance can’t be just turned off by a few breathtaking kisses. This whole thing is so _wrong_ …

When he forces his eyes back open, clueless about what to say, Jim is no longer beside him but scooting down on the bed. He leans over his hips before Bones’ brains can even catch up with the new plan.

Not overthinking suddenly is no problem at all anymore.

Why his hand ends up in Jim’s hair anyway, holding him back before as much as a torturous breath can ghost over his oversensitive flesh, is beyond him for a confused second. Then Bones sees his friend

_lover_

pressing down into the mattress where he’s crouched uncomfortably on his side, sees the tension rippling down over his muscled back, and nearly smacks himself in the face.

“Not like that”, he murmurs huskily when Jim shoots him an impatient look. Damn him if they’re not at least both going to have fun. “Get your ass up here.” He weakly pats the mattress, speaking against the tightness in his chest, the new waves of heat rolling over him at the promise of more intimacy. Jim suddenly has a shit-eating grin on his face and Bones rolls his eyes. “Fucking bed’s still too small, at least for your little stunt down there, ‘s all.”

“You’re really sexy when you lose control of that accent.” Jim grins even wider, all teeth and no worries, and Bones lets himself be pulled into that gravity because a few hours of fun and lust might be all they have left.

Not like he could resist anyhow, when Jim finally kneels over him like requested, his knees spread wide left and right of Bones’ shoulders. And then there’s a hot mouth on his cock, swallowing him down in one go, as if gag reflexes are a long forgotten biologic relict of the dark ages or for other people only.

Getting his hands on that thick, veiny dick, so tempting right in his reach, is all Bones can do is not to come on the spot. He takes it a little slower than his good Captain, because this is exactly what he’s been dreaming of for days.

Make that years.

Enough time for regret tomorrow.

It’s heaven, really, licking off every smallest drop of precum of Jim’s quivering loins and the insides of his muscular thighs, interrupted by just the smallest bites in between, because the noises Jim makes around his cock when he does that, send him right to heaven and back. It’s really not much use, because the guy is still leaking like crazy, but then, cleaning up wasn’t the idea in the first place. Bones just meant to keep his bedmate from swallowing Bones’ cock down again and again until he comes, because he wants Jim just as desperate and impatient as he is.

Only when he feels those strong legs start to shake uncontrollably and Jim shows him just how bendy he really is, thrusting his hips down in spite of the weird angle, Bones catches the tip of nice slightly curved dick between his lips. He lets Jim’s aimless move bring him right down to the hilt without flinching – well, duh, he’s a doctor, so Jim is not the only one who knows exactly how to turn off certain body functions, thank you very much.

And the way Jim just _shrieks_ and throws his head back is so worth the sudden burn and stretch. Fuck, but he’s big, he’s a goddamn mouthful, and Bones hasn’t even time to roll his eyes at his own puns because Jim’s lips are back around his crown, his teeth are scraping against the underside, and it’s Bones’ turn to whimper loudly.

It’s only when his own hips jerk up that he feels Jim’s hands back there, stroking lower inch by inch, and Bones is too busy deepthroating his commanding officer this time to mind. He lets Jim manhandle him, lets him bend his knees and give him the access he needs, while his own senses are fully engulfed in what he’s doing.

Salty, slightly hunger-stale taste on his tongue, a tickle of fine hair and the heavy weight of full balls against his nose when he takes Jim in all the way, holding him there until his vision threatens to black out with the lack of air ... It’s perfect. His skin is still burning with the glow of heavy sweat but this time it’s bearable because Jim’s fingertips are back between his slick-covered cheeks, sliding back in, and there’s no resistance, only unaltered need. And Jim is nothing if not willing to comply with the one-syllable word, Bones growls around his cock.

His own fingers leave angry marks on pale thighs and his head falls back on the pillow, Jim’s cock slipping from his lips momentarily. Fuck. Yes. Finally, _finally_ the soft, knobby thrusting is replaced by firm, unforgiving pressure, smoothly gliding until the end of the toy presses right against his prostate. And Jim stills.

It’s a good thing Bones let go off him, otherwise he might have been tempted to bite. “You didn’t just seriously _stop_!”

Jim chuckles, and the relief in his voice makes the apology for his polite consideration obsolete. “You are way too coherent for having my mouth on your dick and a fake cock up your ass. It’s a little insulting.” Bones doesn’t need to see his face to know about that beloved amused sparkle in his eyes.

He swallows his complaints down and settles for grumpy slap to Jim’s unholy firm ass, earning another chuckle mixed with a throaty moan – interesting. Bones’ heart aches when he realizes, being in bed with Jim usually must be equally mind-blowing, comforting and fun, perfect physical workout, adrenaline heights and fodder for the soul at the same time. Never before Bones regretted it that much, never making that move. Maybe he’ll never know now.

Jim knows exactly that his mind drifted again and choses that exact moment to flip his wrist, jerking that damn toy upwards _just so_ , and Bones screams his name and nearly comes all over his face before Jim has a chance to get his mouth back on him.

He does then, though, sensing that they’re _way_ past foreplay. Now it’s only rolling hips, swallowing around heavily leaking tips, teeth grazing swollen flesh, working each other up to completion with single-mindedly determination. Bones is relieved that until the very end, he can’t feel any trace of that certain new tissue he knows is there waiting in the organ he’s handling, but it wouldn’t have mattered anyway, because it’s Jim.

It’s Jim inside him, all around him, trembling under his strongly massaging hands on his ass. Jim fucking him stupid with a plain dildo that has just turned into the next best thing on this whole fucking planet. Jim sucking on his oversensitive tip like an especially sweet lollipop, and then it’s the tip of his tongue dipping into Bones’ slit, his hand jabbing that toy right into his sweet spot once more, and Bones is pretty sure, he never came harder ever since he entered Starfleet.

Somehow he makes it not to pull back because Jim, hard and heavy and pulsating on his tongue, is the one thing that keeps him from floating off the bed, but his mouth still makes noises, enough of them to have Jim pistoling his hips down mindlessly. Bones lets him, just opens his mouth wide enough while he rides the waves of his own orgasm and lets his best friend fuck his throat.

His fingers slip on Jim’s reddened butt cheeks, maybe by accident, maybe not, it probably doesn’t matter, because Jim’s ass is just so perfectly on display … And at least once before Bones might be pushed completely into a role he never wanted, he wants to feel him. It’s just a gentle, slow fingertip because he has no functioning brain cell left to reach for anything serving as lube.

But Jim goes off like a rocket, pressing up against the intrusion mindlessly and that’s a good thing because now he’s coming too, and Bones just makes it barely to swallow once. Then he has to pull back and turn his head away, because fuck, Jim really _comes_ hard, _again_ , fucking Christ, and there’s still such a lot of it, where is he even keeping all this stuff? And Jim still sucks Bones’ through it until they’re both sore and have to let go off each other.

Bones hisses softly and Jim caresses over his swollen rim with a soothing fingertip and kisses his thigh – _later_ , it means – then he puts the toy away for the moment before turning back to him on shaking knees, collapsing against his side with an unbelieving grunt.

“So … that just happened.”

“Shut up, Jim.” Bones can totally be talkative, but certainly not two seconds after a mind-blowing orgasm.

“No wonder the girls are queueing up by your quarters, you old romantic soul.” Jim grumbles a little but settles comfortably then, with his head on his chest.

Bones decides, he never experienced a more perfect moment in his life. “Never wanted anyone but you anyway.”

Maybe Jim heard before he fell asleep, maybe not.

It doesn’t matter either way.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim and Bones strike back. The planet is one step ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY REAL ABO SEX. Oh God, I feel so filthy now. I'll have to go say a few prayers now, I think.

14

 

 

It’s the best morning they had in a while.

They even sleep in undisturbed for a while, probably because the night lasted much longer than estimated. They ended up in each other’s arms a few more times after the first experiment with that toy, trying out most of the stuff Jim had come up with. And – holy _fuck_ , that one hefty glass dildo with the flared base? Under different circumstances something, Bones might just back to the ship once they are found. If he ever had the wish to remember the worst away mission of his life, that is.

The thought that they have to stay here forever has been blissfully silent these few last hours. Aside from sheer survival, that’s the best part about becoming bedmates. The hope is back.

Sure, it still isn’t perfect at all. They’re both still feverish and exhausted to the bone, but making out like that helped them at least take some long naps, between gentle blowjobs, endless minutes of just kissing and grinding each other to orgasm, and finding as many ways as possible to get each other off without doing the one thing.

And then of course there was the very memorable occasion of waking up from a dozing slumber on his back with not three but four fingers up his ass, working him open good and nice. Pure perfection, Bones was moaning and writhing like an Andorian porn star in no time, pushing down on that skilled hand he was pretty sure Jim was already considering to curl just right, that his best friend would fist him right here and there, after a night of already fucking each other’s brains out. And Bones would let him, happily.

But then he finally managed to open his eyes, and something in his face set Jim off like a rocket, coming all over his leg, and Bones followed immediately behind.

After that, at least they finally could bring themselves to get up. A long shower, the usual ration of floury fruit and stale milk, and then it’s back to working on both computer and replicator.

Bones is still moving like a protagonist in someone else’s nightmare, but his mind has half a thought to spare on the task at hand. He even distracts himself from the fact that he’s leaking like crazy again, has to change that towel on his seat every few minutes. He can practically see his fever rising by the coloring of his slowly typing hands.

Jim behinds him groans quietly with every move as well, he doesn’t even bother to hide that he can’t sit without his legs spread widely. The air is heavy and humid, even more so than in the last days.

They ignore all of that. Especially when there won’t be much time, they’ll have to make the best of it. This might very well be the last chance to actively change something about their fate. Hell if they don’t make the best of it.

 

Unbelieving, Bones leans back and stares at the viral the replicator spat out. Finally, after a lot of shoving memory modules around, researching molecular integrity and ingredients he didn’t have to name since med school. His brain is still trying to process that it actually _worked_ – he’s a doctor, not a fucking engineer, but it worked – when a cheerful scream behind his back nearly has him startling off his seat.

“Gotcha, motherfucker!”

“Language, Jim.” Bones chuckles, more amused than anything because yep, these are words he hasn’t heard from that filthy mouth ever since academy days. At least not when they weren’t drunk off their asses. “Can I judge by your very colorful metaphors that you got something repaired?”

“I still can’t fly us out of here if that’s what you mean.” Jim uses his chair to swirl over to where Bones, throwing one fist into the air, visibly pleased with himself. “But I set off a signal on all Starfleet frequencies that should reach the location range of the other shuttle. If their computer isn’t completely parts, they should catch it and hopefully be able to respond. Then we can at least start to work on some awesome escape plan. And what got you to smile about? You should do that more often, by the way. It’s nice.”

Yep, Jim is in an unbearable good mood, but for once Bones doesn’t feel like a cutting remark. That they both finally found enough energy again to come up with some results, justifies every leap they had to take in the last few days, every minute of shame and doubt and hurt. Finally they’re back on a good path.

“Beat the _motherfucker_ with its own weapons.” Not without pride Bones takes out the phial from the replicator tray and starts to fill a few hypo batteries with the clear fluid. “Med cocktail, nothing that will harm us, but it does quite a number on the planet. Repulsive pheromones for the insects, rotten sweat for the raptors. Once I get this inside of us, we should be safe outside for at least 24 hours with only one shot. Should be enough to reach the city or even the other shuttle.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves though. We need a plan.” After the first triumph, of course Jim realizes how Bones keeps on wiping his forehead and how he tries to get comfortable on that towel clad chair, without much success. Even protected from the most obvious dangers, the ones they know about, it’s still a very hostile environment out there and they’re both not in the best shape.

Bones nods, reluctantly, because Jim is the Captain and Jim is the one with the tactical brain. As much as he wants to leave this shuttle this instant, they need to gather more strength, in body as well as in mind. “Let’s wait for an answer from the others first. Maybe together we can come up with something solid.”

“Spock probably already has a dozen plans ready.” A lopsided grin is on Jim’s lips when he reaches out to press Bones’ shoulder shortly. They both pretend not to startle, without much success. “Still … Len? We just beat this hell, and we’ll do it again. We’ll get out of here, you hear me? Just don’t give up. I need you around for this.”

“Like I could go anywhere. You wouldn’t survive a day without me.” Bones huffs and rolls his eyes and they both know, he’s only half serious and still right.

Jim carefully takes one of the batteries from him – not his best friends as Bones knows very well – and shakes his head in wonder. “Always knew why I keep you around. You match my genius.”

“Brat”, Bones growls, affectionately. “I need to freshen up. Back in a minute.” He scrambles to his feet up, pulling that damn towel from his slick-covered backside with an unnerved grunt.

Just from the corner of his eyes he sees Jim startle, jump up like something hit him. Bones’ chest tightens immediately, on instinct, long before he realizes that it’s gotten even hotter suddenly. And no, that’s not his imagination, from one moment to another he can hardly breathe.

For a second they just stare at each other with wide eyes, and Bones knows, Jim feels it too. For the first time they can actually feel, _smell_ those fucking pheromones, their bodies are giving it off like nuclear weapons, just as overwhelming and sickening.

_heat_

Faintly, in the back of his mind Bones remembers something he read in those files about Alpha/Omega species, but it does hardly make its way from his sub-consciousness before Jim pounces on him. There’s really no other word, he wraps his arms around Bones tightly and shoves him back against the shuttle wall, kissing him before he can even word a protest. He’s already humping his leg frantically while he’s ripping that towel off Bones’ hips and pulling his shirt up, and the growling, needy noises from his throat can only be described as feral.

Instead of lifting a finger to push him away, Bones feels his own arms go around Jim’s shoulders, drawing him even closer, he feels his legs opening without remembering to give that order, and there’s nothing but giving in left.

Sucking on that tongue deeply invading his mouth, all he can do is moan out that sudden overwhelming need for every smallest touch. It’s different this time and they both know, every of their thoughts consumed by nothing but the imminent and unbeatable urge to fuck. Right. _Now_.

“Len …” It’s Jim who somehow, unbelievably makes it to pull back, tries to wriggle away from him, whining at the loss of contact when he does and falling right back in his arms.

“I know.” But Bones is too goddamn tired of fighting something that he was never able to prevent in the first place.

“Shit … I … Fuck, I can’t … need you …” There are tears glistening in Jim’s eyes, and that’s probably the worst.

“I know. Me too.” Bones buries a trembling hand in Jim’s hair and drags him back close, tries to let him know that it’s not okay but that it’s not his fault, still.

“I’m sorry …” Jim’s fingers clutch down on his hips, nails leaving deep marks.

“We’re past this.” Bones leans back against the wall exhaustedly, tries to let the coolness of the metal on his burning skin get some last seconds of clarity out of him, just to find the right words.

“No. I … I can’t.” And then Jim manages it to step back, his hand hard fists by his side. “I can’t do this when you don’t say yes. I _need_ you to say yes, now, or to punch me right in the face and take me out. While you still can. Don’t let me do this when you don’t …”

“Yes”, Bones interrupts him softly, choked, broken but without any doubt.

“Really?” Jim’s pupils dilate so much there’s not a hint of blue left but he still holds on to that last of skepticism.

Bones never loved him more than in that moment of utter defeat. “I can’t let myself die in such a stupid way any more than I can hurt you for something that’s not your fault. Just …” A violent shiver makes him cross his arms in front of his body, a last desperate wall of protection.

“I know. I’ll take care of you. I swear.” Jim turns to the bedroom slowly, waits for a moment, giving Bones another chance to take one of his hypos and sweep his legs from under him if he wants.

But the decision is made, long before Bones takes his hand and lets himself be dragged to their mating ritual.

 

There’s no fooling around this time, they’re both way too pumped for that. They fall into the bed, a mess of tangled limbs and mouths stuck to various spots of skin, kissing, sucking, biting. After a good week of foreplay there’s really no reason to be shy.

Bones wants to snarl in frustration when Jim reaches for one of the toys from last night, because didn’t they just decide that they were beyond this shit? Might as well get on with the program.

But when he rolls his eyes, Jim takes his face firmly between his hands and kisses his mouth shut, then he pushes him on his back and sits between his legs, nudging them apart, gently but without compromise.

“Not gonna hurt you, Len, I told you.”

Bones murmurs something that sounds a lot like “Good luck with that”, but he doesn’t even realize until Jim leans down to him, his beautiful lips tight, his eyes dark and wide with powerful lust and somehow still filled with very clearly projected anger. They shouldn’t be talking right now, they should already have gotten to the main part according to their hormones, but Jim, the bastard, is very clever with his toys. He knows exactly how to delay the inevitable once more. He doesn’t even bother with preparation, not for that thin, smooth dildo when Bones is still loose from last night and slick as ever anyway. He guides the toy home with a slow, careful thrust and holds Bones’ gaze when his eyes flutter close, takes his chin firmly when he tries to flee from that annoyed glance.

“Does that feel like I’m not looking out for you? Should have punched me in the face after all if you still think that.”

“It won’t be enough.” Boans yelps helplessly when the tip of the toy is jabbed mercilessly right against his prostate and his body writhes in pure delight. “Shit, don’t stop … Fuck …” Skilled son of a bitch.

It would be nice to tell himself that it will be just as good with Jim’s cock, a nice quick fuck and whatever comes after, they can deal with when it happens.

But those last weeks of their bodies preparing for this, changing more with every day, haven’t happened for nothing. They have finally reached that peak where pheromones and primal need won’t allow anything else but fucking each other senseless anymore … And that’s not the only thing Bones remembered a few moments ago from his read up on certain alien species. It’s the part that comes _after_ the mating that scared him from the minute he noted the only major physical change in Jim’s body for the first time.

Even squirming with arousal under Jim’s body, thrusting his hips down on the artificial cock that’s supposed to prepare him for the real thing, that fear of the unknown is deeply anchored in his soul. His hands claw down so tightly in Jim’s shoulders that he leaves bloody marks. His throat is suddenly way too tight to speak

Because fuck, Jim is rock hard against him, leaking all over his stomach, he’s more than ready, and Bones is too. They need to, they can’t wait any longer, if they want to do this with at least half a rational thought of caring for each other in their heads left. Bones forces himself, somehow, to drop his head back down on the pillow instead of giving Jim’s shoulder another impressive bite mark. It won’t make a difference but he has to tell him at least.

“This is different, you … Fuck, can you just … for a moment … Fuck, I swear if you make me come now, I _will_ punch you … Fuck … don’t stop… _Jim_!” Finally he manages to get an annoyed growl out that makes Jim still his eager hand for a moment.

Burying both hands in his lover’s hair Bones makes sure he keeps his attention as he finally gets himself to voice that one fear that has haunted him for days, along with the knowledge that he might be messing up another kid’s life soon.

“Listen, this … this mating thing, that’s exactly what our bodies have been modified for. Your … penis, it …”

“As much as I appreciate your work as my doctor, you’re not giving me anatomy lessons ten seconds before I’m gonna fuck you.” Jim sounds impatient but his hands are gentle when they carefully uncurl Bones’ too tight, painful grip and guide them back down on the mattress.

Then Jim reaches down for Bones’ thigh to get him to bend his knees, pretending not to feel how he’s startling. Because yes, Bones insisted, Bones said no when Jim offered him to stop, and now it’s too late, and Jim won’t have any of this shit right now. He won’t allow them to go back to doubt and suicidal thoughts. Not when they’re both that aroused and waiting to finally feel each other in that close, intimate way.

“Give me some credit here, Len. I’m not _stupid_.” He leans down and presses a soft kiss to Bones’ still open, trembling lips, silencing whatever words he might be searching for. “Why do you think I prepared you like that last night? I don’t like it any more than you that we don’t have a choice in this. I’ll do whatever I can to make sure you won’t get hurt. I don’t know if it will be enough, how this will be, how it will feel …“

He shivers, violently, his whole body going tense, and Bones curses himself for forgetting once again that this whole thing isn’t a milk run for Jim. Bones is goddamnit fucking _not_ the only one whose body has been forced into change.

Jim blinks thankfully and kisses Bones’ palm when Bones caresses over his face, gentle fingertips tracing the fine lines of his illegally pretty collarbones. “I’m just hoping that this planet’s whole fucked up logic has some system, you know? Whatever kind of forces are at work here, somehow I doubt they’ll allow the people they want so desperately to reproduce get seriously injured in the process. Okay?”

His eyes stare down pleadingly at Bones’ face, feverish, shining, his right hand clenches around Bones’ nearly painfully, his angrily hard, pre-cum-covered erection twitches against his leg. They both moan out breathlessly.

Please _be okay._

_I can’t do this when you’re not and I don’t know how to stop._

It’s the same conversation all over again, just with their eyes, and when Bones closes his, Jim lowers his head to kiss his eyelids, incredibly tenderly. He gives Bones permission to hide in that last security of darkness and blissful ignorance until it will be impossible. But his own gaze is on Bones, unblinking, he just knows, knows that Jim will hold on to every last bit of self-control as long as he can and do what’s in his power to make this okay.

His hands stay on Bones’ skin all the time, even as he sits back, just enough to remove that toy and throw it aside. From the naughty noise of wet pumping, Bones can make out that Jim is using whatever slick stayed back on the rubber surface to lube himself up, probably the most unnecessary measure that night, the way Bones’ mutation has him leaking.

And then he’s there, he’s finally there, slowly, gently thrusting inside until he bottoms out and falling back in Bones’ arms with a moan that is more like a cry. He’s so unbelievable hard, and so fucking _hot_. It’s like nothing Bones would ever thought it would be, and just like he thought it would be all the same.

Jim wraps his trembling arms around him and seeks his lips, blindly, it’s a mess of sore swollen lips and eager tongues and their moans vibrating against each other’s mouths ever so often. Jim hums contently in the back of his throat when Bones wraps his legs around him, because he needs that, needs to feel his lover as close as possible, every inch of skin he can reach while their unnatural arousal has them buck wildly against each other.

It’s _good_ , fuck, Bones doesn’t think he ever enjoyed a cock as much as Jim’s. He loves every second and can’t bring himself to hate himself for it. For how they planned their life and thought they would be until they were old and grey, it might be wrong. But for the two of them together and the feelings they both buried in the last corner of their soul for years, it’s so very, very right.

It’s less a rhythm than grinding against each other desperately, enjoying every smallest friction, wetness and tightness and that hot length splitting Bones open, and he can’t get fucking enough of it. He has not even time to wonder what the fuck he ever worried about. Because fuck, now Jim is propping himself up and pulling back ever so slightly, angling his hips and Jesus fucking _Christ_ , he knows exactly just _where_ to put that thing.

Bones screams and arches up, rolls his hips against that perfect pressure, pre-cum dribbling all over his stomach. His hands flail until he finds Jim’s chest, stroking his nipples, pulling and twisting, and Jim just _growls_. It’s nothing like that cute little purr he sometimes let Bones hear when they made out. This is the sound of a wild animal, so fucking aroused that it will do just about anything to get his release and allow no distractions.

Bones shudders, not the least surprised when Jim reaches for his wrists and pushes them back against the pillow, and then he _really_ starts to put his hips into it.

The nearly brutal, fast rhythm has them both squirming in pleasure, their interlinked fingers throbbing from holding on tightly to just _anything_ while the pleasure burns and throbs through cocks and balls. It leaves their skin hot and burning without any trace of fever for once, electric sparks shooting up Bones’ spine with every thrust, spreading out from his prostate until he can’t tell anymore if he already came or is still, because that thick cock is milking him for every drop he has to give.

It probably doesn’t matter, he’s never coming down from that high, that heavenly emptiness in his head. He bites down on Jim’s shoulder whenever it’s in reach, or into the pillow, into his own bleeding lip, anything just to keep in those embarrassing guttural sounds of ecstasy from his mouth, without any real success.

The last days have left him sore in spite of all efforts of the famous healing salve, and Jim’s pleasurable assault in the morning did the rest. Bones felt ready and loose for him the whole time, clenching down on Jim’s dick ever so often to draw those perfect mewling sounds from him, just to give him anything back for that perfect fuck. And probably that’s the only reason he only feels the pressure growing, right where Jim is buried to the hilt inside him, when it’s already happening, and his world threatens to white out on him.

“Relax, Len, please …” Jim’s voice in his ear, so rough, so foreign, without any control and still with the last ounce of concern for his well-being. Not even the worst dose of sex-pollen in the galaxy can destroy that.

Bones takes a desperate breath and tries to follow the order when he lets it out, because there’s nothing else he can do anyway. And it’s not like it feels _bad_ , that rapidly growing swelling at the base of Jim’s cock slowly stretching him open, so fucking _wide_ , so big … It’s wrong in every possible way, but oh God, it’s the best feeling he’s probably had since they crashed on this god-forsaken planet.

“Jim …”, he croaks, weakly, his body twitching just as helplessly, held down by Jim’s heavier weight and, more so, the animalistic swelling that just locked their bodies for God knows how long.

“You okay?” His lover doesn’t manage more than a whisper into his ear, but he should be able to feel it, smell in the pheromone filled air, how Bones’ body is just melting into his, all his muscles going pliant like he’s just been molded around that massive cock impaling him.

This is nothing short of perfect. Every smallest twitch of muscles in Bones’ overstretched anus working that oversensitive swelling, every smallest move of his lover heavily dragging over his prostate … Just the lightest roll of hips bringing them even closer together, until Bones clenches up violently around Jim and Jim finally comes inside him, with a scream that leaves Bones half-deaf for the next hour.

Bones is too wrung out to come again, but his body apparently doesn’t accept that as a reason to calm down. He convulses, his head leaned back so hard he’s sure he’ll snap his neck soon. His eyes are nearly bulging from their sockets when he feels his insides all but flooded, Jim’s cock leaving spurt after spurt of thick hotness in him until they’re a sticky mess, falling on each other, still linked inseparably, at least for now.

Bones thinks he hears Jim whisper his name but he chooses to ignore it. He just wraps his arms tightly around his lover and pretends not to realize that the drops falling against his neck that aren’t sweat.


End file.
